I Haven't Slept in Days
by Potato Tree
Summary: Quilla Aberni used to be happy, she used to have fun, she used to smile, but something happened to her, and now she seems vacant of any emotion. Bruce knows her from when she was younger, he finds her again and wants to unlock what happened to her in the past. Joker is out of jail so Batman is a little preoccupied, but it should be easier since the Joker seems interested in Quilla.
1. Chapter 1

**So here's chapter one of said Joker story. Took me a bit because I had to live out a couple days acting like my character in order to understand all her feelings, now that I do, she will be easy to write about. So enjoy chapter one.**

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The soft pitter patter of rain on the ground seemed to calm down the usually rowdy Friday night in Gotham city. Of course there were still drunk people stumbling out of bars, or vomiting on the sidewalk, but the weather seemed to clear everyone off of the streets, for there weren't many people walking around. In fact, if one were to look out the window as they were driving home they would see only about two or three figures walking in the rain. Perhaps if they looked really well they would be able to see that there was one person standing still, no umbrella, no hood pulled over their head. They would see that the figure was tilting their head towards the rain.

Of course if one did see this they would grumble under their breath and continue driving through the puddles back to where ever they intended to rest that head they carry around all day.

If you were one of the ones walking in the rain perhaps it was because you didn't mind the damp clothes or soaked shoes, or maybe you walked to work and didn't know it was going to rain. Either way you might have walked past someone who seemed content with getting soaked, you might have noticed that there was a girl standing in the rain with her eyes closed.

Of course you would walk right by because no one wants to stand in the rain and get wet, but perhaps you're curious, and you can't resist the urge to look back and see if that girl was still standing there. So you glance back quickly to see that she hasn't moved, and continue on your way grumbling about weirdoes.

The figure standing in the rain stood there for at least a half hour before they moved again. You don't know her, no one knows her name, all you have to do is ask for it, but no one asks, so no one knows it.

Her name is Quilla, and she's homeless. She used to live with her family, but it just so happens that she ran away from home.

Turning to walk down the street she finally pulls her hood over her head and starts to trek back to where she spends her nights, not asleep necessarily, but it is dark there.

On this night as Quilla walk back to her _'house'_ there seemed to be someone running rather quickly behind her; she could hear his feet pounding on the sidewalk like a bass drum in a band. Stepping to the side quickly she let him pass her, watching as he turned left sharply and disappeared into an alley. Looking up into the rain dully she noticed a different sound amongst the precipitation, it sounded like a flag flapping in the wind, or a cape trailing behind someone.

With a bit of sudden realization she knew who it was, she wondered if he would come out tonight with the rain and all, but of course bats can fly in many types of weather.

Quilla knew the bat for who he really was, Bruce Wayne, she was probably one of very few people who knew this. You're probably wondering how she knows this, how could she possibly know who the Batman really is. Well that's actually quite simple; she met him about three years ago when she was still in high school, when she still lived at home, and when she was on a school trip.

It was a simple trip, her school thought it necessary to take a look around Wayne industries, and perhaps meet Bruce Wayne himself, and they had. Quilla had stuck out the most back then, long hair, sparkling interested eyes, and an odd sort of personality that made her different from all the other kids in the room. Bruce gave her and a teacher a private sort of tour, of course he was just showing off, being his arrogant usual self, what he didn't know was that Quilla was lacking on excitement, her eyes were beginning to dull.

He'd liked her back then, as a student she was sharp, intelligent, and she also knew how to have fun in any situation. Before the school left that day he gave her his card and told her that if she wanted to come back and explore some more she was welcome to, when she asked why he told her it was because she deserved it.

So she visited him once, and that was when she pretty much figured out that he was Batman. It wasn't something that she realized right away, it was more of an inference, something that she wasn't exactly insistent about. It did make sense to her though. Batman obviously had money, and Bruce had a lot of money, that was for sure, and there was no one else she knew of that fit the description of Batman.

It was fun to think about anyway. If Bruce wasn't Batman, and she said name with no response, then oh well, there was nothing lost, nothing gained.

That school trip was three years ago, surely Bruce had forgotten about her.

"No! Please, just leave me alone! I'll never do it again!" A voice yelled pleadingly. It sounded as if the bat had caught him, probably had him in a choke hold or something that the bat liked to do frequently.

"Tell me where the joker is!" The Bat's rough voice called out. So the Joker had gotten out of his imprisonment, that was news to Quilla, though she didn't really care all that much.

Waiting until she heard a smash and then quiet footsteps she waited for the Bat to walk out of the alley, would she say hello today? Should she ask if his name is Bruce?

The black clothed figure of the Bat moved onto the sidewalk for a second, he glanced at Quilla to see that she was staring at him.

It had been a rough night for him. First of all it was raining, which he wouldn't have minded much if he didn't have to go out and try to collect information about a certain someone. Secondly the Joker had broken out, and was now somewhere in the city wreaking havoc of whatever sort he thought would be fun. Last but not least he wasn't getting anywhere, so seeing a girl staring at him was something that he didn't think too much about. Save that there was something about her that seemed familiar in a way, he couldn't quite place it but there was something in the way she looked or walked.

From what he could see she was pretty enough, a skinny girl, perhaps about twenty years old or around that age, a calm demeanor.

There was a faint wonder in the back of his mind that questioned why the girl was out in the rain in the first place, she was soaked, though it didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. In fact the sight of himself in front of her didn't do anything to make her jump like it did most people, instead she looked, bored.

Taking small steps she walked past him slowly, she didn't even glance at him; Bruce almost felt a little paralyzed by curiosity.

"Hello," she murmured through the soft sound of the rain before walking off. Her voice was calm and cold, if there was one thing that he would say about how she sounded it would be that she was very sad. Her voice seemed to be coated in what one could only call depression.

With a shake of his head Bruce jumped away from her, he still had to get information about the Joker.

The next day Bruce was in his office when the thought of the girl from the night before popped into his head, there was an inkling of thought in his head that wanted to see her again. He wanted to recognize her again, for now the itch in the back of his mind was spreading, who was she?

"Mr. Wayne?" Someone knocked on his door with a soft sound.

"Yes?" He called out in response.

"There's someone here to see you," the voice called out again. It was probably one of his employees, but he couldn't remember which one, there were too many of them anyway.

"Who is it?" He questioned trying to remember if he had an appointment with anyone today.

"She says her name is Quilla Aberni, and that you said she could come visit you whenever she wanted to," the voice explained hesitantly.

Thinking back to names of people he ought to remember Quilla Aberni seemed to need to be on the list, but for some reason he couldn't remember her. Where was she from that she knew who he was and where he worked?

"Let her in," Bruce called with a bit of a question on his face.

The door opened and let in a mysterious looking girl. She wore baggy pants that looked way too big for her, small shoes that seemed to disappear beneath the long pant legs of her bottoms, short brown hair cut in the style of a pixie haircut, and cool green eyes. She also wore a black tank top that hugged her stomach a little more than it needed to, a backpack that looked a few years old.

"Hi," she muttered dully.

"Please have a seat," Bruce said cheerfully. He didn't know who the girl was yet, but something in the back of his head clicked, this was the girl from the night before, but why was she here?

She sat down in one of the chairs and for a second seemed to marvel at how soft it was, certainly it was unlike any of the chairs she had ever sat in at home or anywhere else, but that was just a passing thought.

"So Ms. Aberni, why are you here?" He asked scooting closer to his desk.

"To see if you remember," she commented shortly. Looking him in the eyes with that blank stare of hers, there was no doubt in his mind that she was the girl from the night before, the way she acted was the same. If she was here right now that meant that she knew that Bruce was Batman, but why would she come here, to rub it in his face?

"Remember what?" He questioned looking at her with a curious stare.

"Anything," she answered blandly. Her short answers were beginning to get him now, obviously she wanted him to remember her from his past, but that wasn't going to happen. How many girls had he brought home and fooled around with? How many of those girls did he remember by name?

"I'm getting irritated by your answers; will you not answer my question?" He asked with a bit of anger in his usually calm voice.

"The field trip was fun, you were nice," she said staring at him with eyes glazed over. "How is Alfred doing?" She commented standing up. Again Bruce was troubled by her answers, they were too vague, how was he supposed to drain any kind of memories or familiarity from them?

"So you were here on a field trip," he chuckled. "I'm sorry; there are many field trips to this company. The hope that I would remember you from all those students is folly," she said with an apologetic voice. He really wasn't very sorry, but he didn't want to girl to explode on him, it was hard to tell what kids would do these days.

"I know," she murmured looking out the window with a bit of sadness in her voice. "I just want you to know that I ran away from home, even though you didn't want me to," she muttered bored. Looking back at him one last time she huffed sadly before walking out of the room without another word.

"That was weird," Bruce sighed combing a hand through his hair. A nag had began to pull at the back of his brain, insistent that he figure out what was bothering him, perhaps Alfred would remember the girl.

As it turned out Alfred did remember the girl, which helped Bruce remember the girl as well, but he couldn't believe that the calm depressed girl from before was the same girl from three years ago. Alfred even had a picture of her for some reason, he explained that she'd taken one of them together and sent it to him. The girl in the picture was really different though. Same green eyes, but everything else was different, she no longer had long hair like in the picture, and she hadn't smiled once during the time that they had spoken briefly. She would be about twenty one now.

Remembering when she told him that she had ran away from home he thought back to what she had said to him a few years ago. She's come to visit him and told him that she was tired of being pushed away, and that soon she had plans of leaving. Of course since Bruce was the older more responsible adult he told her that her plans were not the best thought out, where would she go if she ran away? Where would she live? Eventually she gave up on the idea, but Bruce told her that she better not ever run away, then how would they hang out?

After she left that day she didn't come back.

"What brought this up?" Alfred questioned looking at Bruce with a kind expression.

"She came to see me today," he murmured thinking further into what Quilla had said.

"And how is Ms. Aberni?" Alfred questioned with a smile on his face. This caused Bruce to look over at him a little disheartened; she was nothing like she used to be.

"She seemed very," Bruce hesitated trying to find the right words. "Broken," he muttered before standing up and pacing slightly.

"Oh," the old man said turning away to look at the picture again. The girl in the picture looked so happy, he couldn't imagine her looking anything but cheerful, and ecstatic. "She used to be such a happy girl," he murmured picking up a tray of half eaten food.

"I wonder what happened to her," Bruce faded off near the end of his sentence.

"Why don't you call her parents?" Alfred suggested before walking into the kitchen.

"Maybe," Bruce muttered sitting back down. Quilla had been a very intelligent girl, figuring out things even some adults couldn't sort out, and she knew that he was Batman, but what was her motive? Was there any reason for her to try and convict him?

Perhaps tonight he would see her again, and then he could question her, take her back home even.

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**So tell me what you think, new chapter will be out as soon as I update my other stories. Review, yadda yadda, please, thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two! Strange I've written that twice today...Too many stories to update, too little time to think about everything that needs to be thought about. Anyway, here is the new chapter. Enjoy the read.**

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The moon rose high into the sky, just as it did every night, and so the Bat rose as well. Tonight was different though, because tonight he was looking for someone, well actually he was looking for two people. One of which was a girl, someone he thought he would never see again, and the other was an insane psycho man that no one seemed to like, but that was okay because he didn't really like anyone either.

Bruce could still remember Quilla's expressions as she sat in his office and spoke to him, she looked nothing at all like she used to, but what angered him most was what she said. Telling him that she had run away from home despite his best wishes that she would realize family is important, and that it should be treasured. He could barely remember the conversation they had had years ago, something about how Quilla felt empty, but he had just shrugged it off as normal teenager feelings.

Though he was here, searching the city, trying to find the very girl that he had told not to run away years ago. What he wondered most was what happened to her, what happened to make her look so, dead.

With a huff Bruce landed on top of a building and looked at the surrounding area in front of him, it would be almost impossible to find the girl at night in this city.

It was a cackle of laughter that brought his attention over to an alley. Of course it was an alley, all bad things happen in alleys. The laugh sounded just like the Joker's laugh, which made Bruce rush over to where the noise had come from even faster than he had been looking for Quilla.

Nothing could have prepared Bruce for what he saw when he looked down into the alley.

First of all he saw that Joker was, in fact, in the alley. Laughing manically about something leaning against the wall in front of him, while three of his goons stood almost awkwardly behind him. For a second Bruce thought he recognized the person against the wall, which scared him slightly, who would he know that would get in trouble with the Joker?

Green eyes and a calm demeanor. The Joker had Quilla pinned against the wall like a man trying to steal a kiss from someone he liked. The other thing that Bruce noticed was that the shoulder of her jacket was covered in blood, seeing a gun on the ground a few feet away you can guess who shot who.

Before the moon rose high into the sky Quilla started walking, not in any particular direction, just walking down the street as if she had someplace to actually go to. Her mind wandered so far into a different world she blocked out everything around her until she heard a scream that broke her from her thoughts.

Looking around her distantly she wondered where in the world she had walked to, a lower part of Gotham that was for sure. The street was cracked and seemed very bumpy to drive a car on, even the sidewalk was pathetic looking; it looked more like a cracking egg shell than concrete. For a moment she marveled at the design it made as it indented into the rock like a fingerprint on glass, leaving its mark for everyone to see.

Another scream made her wander over to where she had heard it come from, a shrill, painful noise; someone was definitely getting beaten or something. Looking into the alley Quilla was sure she saw a man with a painted face going at someone harshly with a baseball bat, laughing the whole time.

There was something in the back of Quilla's mind that screamed at her to run, very politely she told it to shut up and pushed it into the part of her head where she kept things she had given up. There are many things kept in that part of her head, emotions, memories, words, and the list goes on for a while.

Stopping in front of the alley she looked in to see if she could gather any more information about painted face man, he was probably the Joker, but was that all there was to the man?

When no one noticed that she was standing there, not even the goons that were just hanging around, Quilla got bored and started to walk away.

It was that small bit of movement that caught the Joker's eye; a lone figure walking down a street full of screams was a little weird. In this part of town when you hear a scream that means run, and don't go onto that street until the sun lights it up in the morning. Everyone who lived there knew that, even the Joker knew, but here there was this girl, walking casually by something that would make most people gag, or scream at.

"Excuse me, ah, Girlie," the Joker said with a bit of fake hurt in his voice. "It is so mean to, ah, eavesdrop," he drawled finding the right word after a short pause.

Pausing in mid step Quilla looked over her shoulder at the man as he advanced on her. He still held the baseball bat in his hand, which was now covered in blood, the way he swung it around you would think he was a player himself.

"You're eavesdropping on my walk," she murmured not caring what the man would say after that. She wasn't afraid of him, he could kill her, but she wasn't afraid of dying either. A fit of laughter erupted from the Joker as he advanced on his new prey with a skip in his walk; no one had spoken to him like that. No one.

"Oh, you're a feisty girl," he laughed pulling out a gun and aiming it at her. "I like that," he whispered before a shot ran out. He watched her the whole time, even as he pulled the trigger and shot her in the shoulder. Girls always had the best reactions when you shot them, never boring, but always very predictable. The screaming, the crying, the begging and pleading, everything was always the same, but he did enjoy watching their faces as he pulled the gun on them again.

So he watched the girl with a smile, anticipating the time where she would scream, and he would laugh and approach her while she wailed in agony.

The night was silent after the shot rang out, the girl in front of him merely clutched her shoulder as blood started to soak her jacket in red, she even looked up at him with a sort of bored but pained expression.

"No screams?" He questioned with a bit of surprise on his face. "No begging?" He questioned her manically. He jumped around her and waited for her to say something, giggling as he watched her squeeze her shoulder.

"Ow," she muttered looking at him with angry eyes. "That fucking hurts," she mumbled turning around to leave him. The Joker laughed at how she reacted to getting shot, this girl was weird, no screams, no tears, just one colorful word, and she was even walking away from him.

"Where do you think you're, ah, going?" He questioned with an evil grin. Quilla looked back at him with a small glare, he shot her, she had been expecting something like this, but still, she hadn't felt pain like this in a while. Not since that one time.

Laughing again the Joker got a more serious and angry face, rushing over to where Quilla was looking at him he threw her onto the ground, laughing as he backed her up into a different alley than the one before.

"I think," She mumbled standing up shakily. "You laugh far too much," she said blandly. This made Joker even more hysterical than he already was. He pulled her to her feet and slammed her against the wall, making sure to slam her injured shoulder enough to make her eyes furrow in pain and anger.

"Everything is funny," he replied in a dark tone.

"Let her go," a dark ragged sounding voice called. The Joker looked up to see Batman looking down at them from the roof, a frown on his face as he looked at the state Quilla was in.

"Come get her," Joker cackled throwing her to the ground.

With a growl Batman jumped into the alley where he was almost immediately mobbed by Joker's goons, they were slightly happy because they had something to do now. At the same time they also felt that it was bad luck because it was the Bat, and they probably weren't going to win.

"Get him, kick him," Joker laughed going to join in on the fun when he felt something hit his arm harshly.

Turning around he looked to see that the girl was blocking the exit to the streets, holding his baseball bat and giving him a calm stare. She looked like a warrior holding a sword, even her bloody arm seemed to be able to grip onto the thing with a great amount of strength, but this only made Joker laugh. Man this girl was interesting, he almost found the need to dig up all her secrets and find out who she really was,

"You know I, ah, really like you," he said watching as a goon snuck up behind her. "But you're going to have to turn around," he smirked. Without changing her expression the girl swung the bat around her body and faced away from the Joker, catching his goon in the jaw there was a sickening crack as she smashed his ribs. "Hit him again," Joker encouraged.

He was having so much fun he almost forgot to run away as she was destroying his goon. There was something about the way she looked at him, that blank stare that never seemed to go away, the glaze that covered the emotion from showing in her eyes. He hated it, but at the same time it made him excited. What else could he do to her that she wouldn't respond to? Running off into the night Joker giggled to himself like the madman he was, plotting what he would do the next time he saw her.

Throwing the last man away from him Bruce looked over to see that Quilla was wielding a baseball bat and taking care of two goons at the same time, though her shoulder seemed to be giving her quite a bit of trouble. She was losing, but it didn't seem to bother her, the way her eyes looked as she held her weapon like a sword was truly something to look at.

"Get out of here," Bruce growled before shooting something at one of the men. It took a few seconds for the scare effect to sink in, but in a few seconds both of the men seemed to catch the hint that they would lose regardless of whether they fought or didn't. Running seemed like the best option so that's what they did.

"Thanks," Quilla murmured looking over at Bruce with a sort of dead looking face. She was already a pale girl when it came to skin color, but the fact that she was losing blood from the wound in her shoulder made her look like a ghost.

"Come with me," Bruce growled pulling at her arm. He pretty much dragged her along with him until he felt her slump against him slightly, that was when he got a really good look at her face.

She looked like she hadn't slept in a few days, bags under her eyes, she even seemed to be feverish, but through all that was going on with her health there remained that blank look on her face. It was the look that people got when their hearts had been broken, or perhaps when they realize something that never made sense before, and the knowledge was something they didn't need.

"Leave me to die," she murmured before her eyes finally drooped closed and she fell unconscious against his strong back.

Bruce held her gently in his arms before picking her up and running back to his lair as fast as he could, Quilla seemed to always have had a strong heart, but now it seemed to be getting weaker. Bruce wouldn't let it stop altogether.

"Alfred, there's a bullet wound," Bruce shouted placing Quilla carefully down on his bed. The girl looked dead to say the very least.

"Are you alright?" He asked rushing into the room with worry on his face. It was then that he noticed that Bruce was fine, and that there was a girl on the bed, a girl that the old man had not seen in years. "Oh my," he muttered feeling the urgency that Bruce had displayed in his voice.

They fixed up her wound nicely enough, took care of her fever, and all that jazz. All that Bruce could think of now was to call her parents and inform them that their daughter had been in a sort of accident. So he got their number, did some research on Quilla, and found out that the last thing that was registered in her record were Kendo lessons two years ago. After that there was nothing else, not even a trace of anything else she had done.

The phone rang twice before someone answered it.

"Hello this Ida speaking," a lady with a clean voice answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Bruce Wayne, I'm wondering if we could talk about your daughter," he explained trying to infer things about the women just from her voice.

"Which one?" She questioned getting a bit of edge in her voice.

"Quilla, is she there?" He questioned glancing through the door to his room. He wanted to see how her family was dealing with the fact that she ran away from home, did they miss her? Were they looking for her? Quilla had already been asleep for two days; she hadn't woken up once since he brought her here that night, would they care?

"You know she should be here, but her door is usually locked. So I just leave her alone, let me call her for you," the woman muttered with a slightly irritated voce. Bruce waited, hearing a muffled call to where the mother thought Quilla to be. "Sorry Mr. Wayne, she doesn't seem to want to talk right now. What did you say you relation to her was?" She finally questioned.

"Just a friend," Bruce murmured feeling a bit of shock seep into his features. Did her family really not know that she was gone? Did they think that she was in her room with the door locked all the time? Why weren't they looking for her?

From what Bruce understood about Quilla, he knew that she was a good kid. Good grades, great friends, and an outrageously unique personality that people loved, what had happened? That was the main questioned that kept rattling through his mind, no matter how he looked at what Quilla used to be, and what she was now he couldn't fit the pieces together.

She used to talk about her family all the time, sometimes it made Bruce envious of her, having such a big family to share her life with. She loved her family back then, What happened to her during those three years.

What happened to her?

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**So there's that. Please review and all that good stuff. At first I had thought this story would be romance, purely romance, but then there was the idea of what happened to Quilla. So now it's like a mystery romance story, I think it's cool. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three! I find it very easy to write this story for some reason, perhaps I enjoy it because it feels like I have been through something like this before. Well enjoy the reading.  
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It was two days later that Quilla finally woke up, not that anyone noticed. Bruce was staying at home waiting for her to wake up so he could question her about what happened that past few years, for he was very curious.

It was around two in the afternoon when her eyes finally fluttered open. She breathed in deeply, knowing that this was not her home, for she felt that she had no one anymore. The pain in her shoulder didn't come until she tried to shift her body over slightly, but the pain didn't even bother her all that much.

Looking around she saw the room looked to be quite lavish, which was something she certainly wasn't used to; this room showed signs of someone who had enough money to throw around carelessly. That could only be one person, at least one person she knew who lived in Gotham, Bruce.

To tell the truth she didn't know why she had sought him out when she arrived here. Perhaps it was because there was still a small inkling in her that hoped someone would see her and know her, for she missed seeing the recognition in people's eyes.

She hadn't expected to meet the Joker; to say the very least it was an interesting first meeting, but she could care less if she ever met him again. Mostly because she didn't want to get shot again, not because the pain was unbearable, but because it was unpleasant and otherwise very unnecessary. If she did happen to run into him again maybe it would be the last time she ever ran into anybody, and she would be just fine with that.

With slightly trembling feet she relished the feeling of the cold carpet beneath her toes, which made her look down at herself noticing what she was wearing. Certainly her old clothes had been bloodied by her wound, so it was natural that any good host would change her clothes for her, but it was still a little odd for her. Now she was wearing a dark green night gown, which probably matched the color of her eyes, and her shoulder was bandaged in a most professional fashion.

A shaky first step proved that she was unable to walk at the moment; she stumbled into the wall with a small thump before sliding down onto the ground. Gliding her fingertips across the carpet and the fabric of her own clothing she stayed on the ground, overlooking the room from a totally different perspective was always time consuming. It was easy to admit that she was weak, days of sleep would do that to you, but she wasn't worried or afraid of what would come. Most people would have a million thoughts swarming through their head like a group of bees, but she had nothing of the sort.

With a rather dead gaze she pulled her own mind back into a world of memories that did nothing but drag her farther and farther away from reality.

Not one minute later did Bruce walk into the room; he'd heard a small noise from the room moments before and had wondered if Quilla had finally decided to rejoin the world of walking and moving.

Upon walking into the room he was slightly frazzled when she wasn't in her bed, for he had no reason to look at the floor, he didn't know that she was sitting against the wall. It was when he glanced around a little curiously that he noticed her sitting on the ground limply, which made him worry slightly about what she was doing. He almost said something to her when he noticed that she had yet to turn and look at him, surely she had heard him enter the room, but for some reason there was no movement in the way she was staring.

It was almost a little creepy looking the way her eyes gazed off into the distance and her body seemed vacant of any life. Bending down to look into her eyes Bruce almost got lost in thought as he tried to figure out the emotion that seemed to drench her eyes like a sudden rain would drench an unsuspecting person without an umbrella. She didn't see him even though he was right in front of her, she didn't see him at all.

With a firm shake of her good shoulder he saw that the glazed over look in her eyes faded slightly, though not completely it was welcome for Bruce. The way she blinked and looked around the room it seemed as though she was seeing it for the first time. When she finally looked at Bruce there was a small flicker in her eyes that Bruce didn't catch right away, when he thought he saw something it was already gone.

"Quilla, are you sure you slept long enough?" He asked in a joking manner. He hoped that if he reverted back to the way he used to talk to her that she would regain some of her old personality, but that was wishful thinking.

"Thank you," she said in a slow calm voice. He looked at her questionably, she didn't answer his question at all, he was actually very confused by what she was saying at the moment. "For the bandage," she murmured touching it gently.

"Of course," he smiled at her brightly. "Might I ask why you are on the floor?" He mused with a quiet grin.

"My legs," she mumbled looking down at her legs dully. Bruce gave her a gruff nod before picking her up and placing her gently back on the bed, she looked at him bored, perhaps this was her way of saying thank you without speaking.

In the next minute Alfred came into the room holding a tray of food, he smiled at Quilla before placing the tray on the bedside dresser next to her.

"You must be hungry," he said giving her a glass of orange juice. Bruce was almost surprised that she even took a hold of the glass, the way she looked at the both of them he wondered if the glaze over her eyes would ever clear.

Alfred looked at her kindly, hoping the girl would actually drink the juice instead of just staring at it. That was what she was doing, for some reason the glass of liquid seemed very interesting to Quilla, looking at the vivid orange color made her lose herself. It was often that she lost herself in these sorts of journeys, sometimes she thought about her past, but most of the time she thought about the world, and how everyone was going to die.

"I called your mother," Bruce said trying to get a raise out of her in any way possible. She only turned her head to the side slightly, thinking of her mother and all the things she had done that had led up to this moment. "Do your parents know that you're gone?" He questioned trying to catch her eyes with his.

"No," she said calmly, it almost sounded like a whisper.

"When did you run away?" He questioned giving Alfred a wary glance. He wasn't sure if she was going to respond or not, but she had so he was just going to keep going until she stopped.

"A year ago," she murmured taking a small sip of juice. Bruce's eyes widened slightly, she had to be lying about that, a year, she'd been gone for a year and her parents still didn't know? He wanted to ask her again, but wasn't sure if she would answer if he thought she was lying.

"Why did you leave?" He asked looking to see that Alfred was looking back at him with a sad sort of smile. This time Quilla didn't answer, instead she turned her head towards the window and gazed out of it with a chilling stare, like she was looking for something she knew she wouldn't find.

As soon she looked away from him Bruce knew that she wasn't going to answer anything else. With a nod towards Alfred they both started to walk out of her room. It was a small tug on Alfred's jacket that caused him to look back into green dead eyes; she glanced away from him slowly.

"Thank you Alfred," she whispered feeling that her throat was protesting. The old man in front of her wanted to crack, seeing this girl in such a state as this was very depressing, he never would have imagined she could get like she was now.

"You are very welcome my dear," he said clenching her cold hand in his warm ones. "If you need anything," he said looking into her eyes gently before walking out to where Bruce was.

Quilla looked down at her hand a little distantly, it was warm now. It was different from when her hands were cold and she breathed into them in order to feel a bit of warmth, the way her hand felt could only be the warmth a human could give.

Outside her room Bruce and Alfred discussed what they should do with the girl, of course they were going to keep her here, but what could they do to figure out her past. Bruce figured that perhaps a family member of hers had died, and therefore she had lost her emotions along with losing a piece of her heart. After checking up on it they found out that she had five siblings, and not one of them had died, or even been seriously injured in the past few years. So that suggestion was out.

Alfred wondered if there was something that happened at school that caused her to retreat back into herself, but they found no records of anything ever happening at school. Of course it was still in question seeing as how someone would have had to reported abuse in order for it to be on file, so she could have been bullied and no one knew.

Glancing back into the room they saw that Quilla was staring blankly at the wall, more or less trapped in her own world of thoughts, sitting up as if she was ready to go somewhere.

"Perhaps we should take her to see a doctor," Alfred whispered not sure if she was listening or not. When it came to wounds or injuries Alfred was one of the best, as he had dealt with Bruce for so long, but this seemed to be more of a sickness of the mind, and therefore he knew not what to do.

"Or we could send her home," Bruce suggested. "Tell her parents where we found her," he said with a bit of wonder in his voice.

"Would she not run away again?" Alfred asked looking at the girl. If they were to send her home, she might end up hating them for whatever reason, and then they would never find her again. "What if we sent her home, and then lose her?" He asked calmly.

"You're right," Bruce murmured walking over to the couch and sinking into a cushion. "I'll take her to a Doctor in a few hours," he finally decided without looking up. "Get her some clothes and make sure she eats," Bruce said before walking away. He was going to do some more research, possibly call some of her friends to see if they knew what happened.

Three and a half hours later Bruce walked into Quilla's room slowly. Now she wore a silk and very expensive looking black dress, a simple design. It didn't look like something the old Quilla would ever wear as she had told them numerous times that she didn't like dresses, but this Quilla didn't care at all. She actually looked kind of cute in it, not that Bruce was going to tell her that, but her short haircut had seemed to make her appearance softer on the eyes, she looked like a doll you could dress up.

Alfred had explained to him that she'd only eaten an apple, and that he worried for the girls health seeing as how she looked healthy but skinny, nothing like what she used to look like.

When Bruce entered the room she didn't raise her head from its position, instead he saw her eyes move to stare up at him, a passive and cold expression on her face.

"Quilla, I'm going to take you to see someone," he said slowly and kindly.

"Okay," she murmured dully. Man if this girl played poker she'd be the best bluffer ever, was what Bruce had thought at that moment.

Taking her hand in his he made sure she put a jacket on before they left his home; he wasn't sure whether or not she would follow him, so taking her hand was a reassurance. He'd called one of the best Psychiatrists of the city for her; hopefully this person would be able to get some information from her, perhaps even a few memories.

Alfred drove them to a huge building that Quilla knew right away to be a mental health sort of building, not that she cared, but if they decided to leave her there she would run away from there as well. Everyone at these places was always trying to get inside her head when she was the only person that belonged in there.

As they walked in Quilla found ways to keep herself occupied. The thought that took up most of her time was imagining what would happen if the whole building was suddenly underwater. Obviously everyone would drown, which would be unfortunate, but perhaps for a few moments the weightless feeling of floating would be worth it. That was something that she had always loved, being in the water, for it was so peaceful, one could imagine they were exploring the great depths of the sea.

Bruce dragged Quilla along with him, seeing that she was daydreaming even now made him marvel at how easy it was for her to just drift away from reality. The Doctor saw them before they even got into the correct room, he smiled cheerfully at them, trying to lighten the mood in such a depressing place.

"This must be Quilla," he said bending down slightly to meet the girl's eyes. "How old is she?" He questioned trying to set an age on her. For she was short, maybe five feet four inches, the man wanted to see if he could match an age with a diagnosis.

"She's Nineteen," Bruce murmured. He thought the girl to be at least twenty, but she was still in her teen years, which surprised him, for he thought she was older than that.

"Does she speak?" The Doctor asked standing up and looking at Bruce.

"Sometimes," Bruce said slowly. He was almost unsure of how to answer the questions as he did not know her as well as he used to.

"Well, let's see what we can do for her," he smiled before showing them to a room.

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**So that is the end of that chapter, tell me what you think if you would be so kind. Review...please...thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

**New chapter, cheers all around. Lot's of happy faces...okay I don't know what I'm talking about, but please enjoy the chapter.**

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Quilla found out that the doctor's name was Hurtz, Doctor James Hurtz. He reassured them that it was just his name, he didn't actually hurt anyone, he was very insistent about it, making Quilla wonder if he got picked on as a child. Perhaps his fellow Doctor buddies laughed at him because his last name scared people away.

As of now they were sitting in a room, Dr, Hurtz seemed to be talking to Bruce more than he spoke to her, which was fine with Quilla, she didn't feel like talking anyway. With a dull expression on her face Quilla looked at on the posters on the wall, it explained some of the illnesses of the mind; she wondered faintly what illness they were going to stick on her.

"Quilla?" The Doctors voice brought her out of whatever daydream she had been in. Moving her eyes to look around the room her eyes grazed over Bruce to see that he was looking at her with a sort of hopeful look on his face. As if he was silently asking her to respond.

So she looked at the Doctor with a slow turn of her head, not giving him anything other than her cold stare to work with.

"Did anything happen while you were at school?" He questioned with a powerful gaze. Bruce had told the man of his earlier questions and of what he thought might have happened with her, so Hurts had agreed to ask those questions. "Did someone bully you?" He asked calmly.

"No," she responded shortly, her voice a whisper. Even as he spoke her mind went back to her high school years, all the laughter, the smiles, the good days, and the boring classes. All of those memories seemed to be wrapped in a blanket of light; there was also a feeling of warmth that arose in her when she thought back to those days.

Dr. Hurtz glanced over at Bruce with a steady gaze, his questions were answered, and Quila had no reason to lie, did she?

"Tell me about your home life, do you have a loving family?" He asked trying to get her to show any kind of emotion.

"My family is loving," she answered dully. It was then that her mind took another trip to the past as she recalled what her family had been like when she was younger, and what they turned into after she had grown up. Doctor Hurtz felt slightly accomplished because he got more than just one word out of her mouth, though the answer wasn't much helpful.

"Do they love you?" He asked with a bit of edge in his voice.

"Yes," she answered softly.

Bruce knew that Quilla's family was one of the most charismatic families he had ever heard of, they were always laughing about something, complaining, messing around, doing something busy body, and they always had a good time. It didn't surprise him that she said she had a loving family, what surprised him was the way she had answered yes.

First she turned her head away from the doctor slightly, looking around the room with her eyes, before she had answered. Like she was looking for something, save there was nothing familiar in the room to find.

After about ten minutes of getting nowhere Bruce sighed.

"Can I speak to you outside?" He questioned giving Dr. Hurtz a stern look.

"Of course," he said with a small smile.

They then proceeded to walk outside, moving a little way away so Quilla would not be able to hear the conversation. This left her alone in the room to get lost in her own thoughts again, sitting on the odd couch with eyes glazed over she looked much like a doll, not moving except to breathe, which her chest rose slightly for.

"What is it?" Hurtz questioned looking at Bruce with level eyes.

"You're not really get much information," he murmured trying to look back at Quilla. Hurts fumbled around with his words a bit as he tried to explain things to one of the richest people in the city. "What do you suppose is wrong with her?" He asked looking down at him, it was very intimidating.

"Well," he said with a huge sigh. "It's obvious that she has some form of Depression," he said looking up at him knowingly. "You told me she used to be a hyper girl, couldn't sit still for very long. Now she just seems, well less, she can't stay focused at all. And she lacks the vigor to do anything anymore," he went on about what Bruce already knew.

"I know that," he muttered bored.

"Well those are all symptoms of Depression, but there are also signs of Insomnia. You can see it in her eyes; she just looks so very tired," he mumbled thinking back to how they had spoken.

"Can you make her talk about any of her memories, hypnosis?" Bruce questioned. That was all that he really wanted out of this visit, was there something that had happened in her life, something big, that made her react in this kind of way.

"I was going to do that next," the man explained with a hard sigh. Bruce glanced at him before walking back into the room where Quilla seemed to be looking at the ceiling, laying down on the couch.

At first she'd looked at the wall, trying to find animals in the random design of blobs and bumps. Since she found none there she turned to the ceiling and thought about how a spider saw things, looking down on humans. It must be pretty cool to look down from the ceiling.

When Dr. Hurtz came back in the room he went through the whole process of getting her to relax and retreat back into her past, making her pull a memory into her thoughts.

"I want you to go back to when you first started to feel sad, are you there yet?" Hurtz asked in an expert sounding voice.

"Yes," she said dully. Bruce watched the whole thing with interest, anything she said would help him figure out what had happened to her.

"Where are you?" Hurtz asked calmly.

"In my room, alone, everyone is gone," she said in a cold tone.

"How do you feel?" Another question.

"Hopeless, understanding, I finally get it," she said with a faint frown.

"What do you understand?" Hurtz asked clearly. They were getting somewhere, he could feel it. Though he had been expecting a different setting, perhaps one where someone in her family had been with her, not just alone.

"Why he did it," she explained breathlessly. It was the first time her voice changed, so it surprised Bruce and intrigued him all the more.

"What did he do?"

"He killed people, ten people died because of him," she said in a calm warped voice. "He went into a grocery store, pulled out a gun, sent his journal in," she murmured, adding the last part about a journal oddly. Bruce's eyes furrowed slightly when he heard this, just who was this man that she knew of that had done this?

"Who is this man?" Hurtz just kept going.

"Alex Beedrum," she muttered softly.

With a questioning glance Hurtz looked back at Bruce who seemed to be lost in thought, for some reason the name sounded very familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Seeing that Bruce didn't know who the man was Hurtz turned back to Quilla and began the process of pulling her back to reality. It was the first time that hypnosis had gone so smoothly, sometimes the patients would start to react to how they felt back then. Usually their tone of voice got angrier, or sharper, or bitter, but with Quilla it felt as if she hadn't changed at all.

Seeing that Quilla was waking up properly Hurts and Bruce walked back outside and discussed things further.

Suddenly there was a strange ringing that went through the building, the bell sounded like a soft alarm clock, an alarm to merely warn the workers and not the patients. Immediately Hurtz ran over to one of the desks, pulling the phone put and calling whoever was in charge of pulling the bell, or whoever was closest.

"What is it?" Bruce asked with urgency lacing his words.

"The Joker is here," he said before running off down the hallway. Bruce froze up before looking back into Quilla's room, he had to go get his suit, but could he just leave her here?

"Quilla," he said sternly running into her room. She looked up at him with glazed eyes and an emotionless face; the ringing didn't seem to bother her at all.

"Bruce," she said his name gently.

"Hide in the closet," he instructed before turning to run away. She looked up at him slowly, without a bit of fright on her face, she disregarded the urgency and power in his voice. "Now!" He shouted at her before he ran towards the closest exit. He would have to be fast if he was going to make it back in time to make sure that she was okay and that the Joker had not found her yet.

Watching Bruce go Quilla didn't move, instead she listened to the ringing and remembered a day in high school when she used to be in band. There was a song that they played when she was a tenth grader that had a resonating drum throughout the whole song, adding the other instruments together in her head she made her own personal band in her mind.

A ways off in the building the Joker laughed and cackled as he grabbed people by the arms and threw them around. He had been getting low on crazy goons, so what better place to go than a mental hospital, there were tons of crazy people here. It was easy to find people to use and abuse when they didn't know what they were doing in the first place; they were definitely his idea of bad guys.

With a small skip in his step he shot at a nurse that was trying to get away. Hearing her scream made him smile, he always waited for the scream, but the scream reminded him of something else. It reminded him of his encounter with a girl that didn't scream, even when she got shot she didn't scream, and that had been very interesting.

He'd tried to find the girl at a hospital, or anywhere, but it seemed that she had disappeared after the bat had shown up and ruined his night. He wanted to have her in his grasp, he wanted to make her scream, he wanted to break her and watch tears run down her face. He also wanted to figure out how she had come to be so emotionless, surely there had to be some big reason as to why, and perhaps it was the very reason that he had gone insane. Now wouldn't that be fun?

Watching the nurse writhe on the ground wasn't as exciting as he remembered it to be. That girl had taken his reason to shoot people, they were just so predictable and boring, and there were very few people, if any, who didn't scream after being shot.

Stepping on her leg she screamed out in pain and begged him not to kill her, so boring! How many times had people begged him not to kill them? Kicking her in the head he watched her head jerk to the side, she screamed in pain all the way.

"You're ah," he stopped bitterly. "Hurting my ears," he said with a laugh. He then ran off to a room where there were shelves full of pills, sleeping pills, Depression pills, happy pills, and all kinds of other pills. Grabbing a bunch of each of them he sort of skipped off down the hallway, now he could make everyone in the building insane. Wouldn't that be fun?

Laughing manically he watched as his goons had fun destroying the place for no reason, it was easy to recruit people in such a place as this, all the patients seemed to want to revolt against the people who pushed pills down their throats.

Going off to a different part of the building the Joker ran past rooms with an erratic pace, these were the nicer rooms that they brought visiting patients to, there didn't seem to be anyone inside any of them though. Sprinting past yet another room he stopped short and back tracked to see that there was in fact someone inside of this room, it was surprising who it was though.

Sitting on one of the therapist couches sat none other than the girl from the other night. She didn't seem to mind that everything around her was chaos, she didn't care that there was an annoying bell ringing every two seconds. He admired the way she stared off at nothing, lost in her own little world. She was here! Of all the places in the world she was in a mental hospital, with a bitter thought the Joker laughed at how anything different was to be considered insane or broken.

He also had to admire the way she looked, very cute in that black dress that someone had given to her, almost like one of those creepy life sized dolls.

"Well, ah, hello," he murmured walking into the room slowly. The voice pulled Quilla from her mind concert, to look over at a new man in the room; he was the Joker from the other night.

"Hi Joker," she whispered. Her eyes barely touched his presence, she could have been looking past him for all he knew, but to think she would actually greet him, now that was entertaining.

"Now that's, ah, not fair," he said standing in front of her. "You see you know my name, but I don't know yours," he drawled out, pulling some pills from his pocket. It was true that he felt a little weird that she knew his supposed name, and he didn't know who she was at all.

"Quilla," she murmured looking away from for a second before slowly moving her eyes back.

"And why are you, ah, here, Quilla?" He questioned reading the label before pulling off the cap.

"Can't you tell?" she questioned looking up at him with a dull gaze. He looked back at her curiously; he hadn't expected her to answer with a question. "I'm crazy," she murmured coldly.

The Joker laughed outrageously at what she said, he wasn't expecting that at all, especially the way she said it, as if she had been told it so many times that she really did believe it. Although that was folly, any crazy person would never suggest that they are in fact a basket of cats, it's the ones that deny it that are twisted in the mind.

With a sudden jump the Joker pushed down on Quilla's injured shoulder, watching in satisfaction as her eyes twitched slightly, it was probably the closest thing he was going to get for a response. With a cackle he shoved some pills into her mouth, putting his gloved hand over her face he waited until she swallowed them, staring into her eyes the whole time. She had shown no signs of weakness, or fear, there had been nothing that suggested she was afraid of what was happening to her, she just looked into his eyes dully.

In a few seconds she was out cold, the sleeping pills here were very strong. The Joker looked at her curiously before picking her up and carrying her in his arms. He wanted her, oh how he wanted her, she was a puzzle, something that he could solve and crack. This was something that he was looking forward to it, it would be fun, and in the end he would have an insane girl by his side, or perhaps a dead body, but both of them sounded fun.

"Joker," a deep rough sounding voice called to him from behind. Finally the Batman had arrived.

"Hello, ah, Batsy," the Joker laughed turning around to look at him. For a moment Batman seemed to be frozen as he looked at who the Joker was holding.

He had Quilla with him.

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**So what did you think? A little more of Quilla's past is revealed, do you think you have an idea of what happened to her? Tell me what your theory is, and tell me what you think...so...review. Thank you for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**New chapter, as you can see. Not going to say much here, sorry it took longer than normal, hope you enjoy.**

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For a moment Bruce didn't know what to say, why was the Joker taking someone like Quilla anyway? Most people wouldn't bother with someone who never answered back when you spoke to them, what did a demented man like the Joker want with a depressing girl like Quilla?

"She's cute isn't she?" The Joker asked in a creepy sort of hoarse voice.

That comment snapped Bruce out of his thoughts, how was he going to get Quilla back from the Joker?

"Let her go," Bruce said darkly taking a step towards the green haired man.

"Oh, let me, ah, think about that," Joker said with a fake serious face. "No," he laughed heartedly. Bruce advanced on him with a quick punch for his head, but the Joker had been ready for that and he ducked under, taking Quilla with him as he ran down the hall way.

Bruce turned after him angrily, he couldn't just let him take her and not get her back. If he lost her to him, he might kill her.

"He's here!" The Joker called out cheerfully. "Batman's here!" He laughed before turning to face Bruce with a smile on his face. Quilla looked like a child in his arms, as if she had fallen asleep on the couch and he was taking her to bed, but it wasn't as happy a memory as that.

Suddenly the hall was filled with a dozen patients, Bruce had to admit that they kind of looked like zombies the way they were walking, so slow and tired. Bruce tried to shove past them, but they seemed to want to grab onto his armor and pull him down, so he tried his best to gently get them off himself. Since they were still considered patients of the mental hospital he couldn't just throw them around like normal now could he?

"Pull him down, pull him!" Joker laughed from the end of the hallway.

Seeing that he was close to the exit Bruce tried even harder to push past all the zombie patients, shoving them away from him he was met with the Jokers goon's instead.

He didn't have time for this!

Easily throwing them aside Bruce looked up to see Joker skipping happily out to some white vans.

A weird child would see them and shout _'Pedo-van'_ or at least the ones that watch a lot of movies. In this case it pretty much is a Pedo-van since Quilla is way younger than the Joker and she's being taken against her will.

Jumping over some overturned chairs Bruce ran for the vans, he was so close. With a laugh the Joker gave Bruce a thumbs up before the door slammed shut and started to drive off right away, which made Bruce growl angrily. Very quickly Bruce got on his motorcycle and chased after the two vans, he wasn't going to lose them now.

Suddenly the two vans split up, a last minute decision made him turn left to follow the faster of the two vans, usually the one that was carrying something valuable moved faster than the one that wasn't.

From the other van the Joker laughed as he watched the Batman go off after the other speeding vehicle, looking back at his prize Joker took off her coat to inspect her shoulder, since he'd put pressure on the wound it had started bleeding again. Not that the Joker cared, he was looking for something he had seen earlier, something that made him question what had happened to her to give her that kind of scar.

Feeling his way up her arm carefully he stopped when he felt it, a long thin scar that traced from her wrist to her elbow on her left arm. It wasn't a burn scar, no it was too nice looking to be something like that, not glass either, it usually cut jaggedly. No, this was a knife.

A smile found its way onto his face as he checked her body for more scars, scars had stories, and stories were fun. When they finally arrived at his hideout the Joker had found four more scars, two on her legs, one of her foot, and one on her hand, the hand scar looked as if she had grabbed onto a blade of some sort.

Interesting, this girl was very intriguing to him, but interesting wasn't enough yet. How would she react to the things he was going to do to her? Everything she had done so far was so unpredictable it excited him, because most things in life are very predictable.

On the other side of the city Bruce finally stopped the van, pulling the door open his heart sank at what he saw. A dead nurse, and a couple goons that were injured from the fight at the mental hospital. He'd chosen the wrong van, Quilla was with that bastard of a man now, he'd failed her, but maybe she was used to that now.

A loud bang was heard muffled by her deep sleep; Quilla opened her eyes slowly to find her surroundings unfamiliar, not so frightening, just different. Sitting up slowly in the bed that she had been placed in she looked around with a more than bored expression on her face, as if nothing in the world could excite her the way it used to.

"Look who's, ah, finally awake," a voice drawled creepily from her left.

Quilla didn't move her head, merely let her eyes look at him from beneath her eyelashes.

"Did you sleep long enough?" He asked with a sarcastic bitterness in his voice.

"I don't sleep much," she said calmly. It was very true, there were many days at a time when she didn't sleep at all at night, most of the time it was because she was walking through the streets in the dark, or it was because she didn't have any place to sleep. Either way sleep was not an escape for her.

Whenever she left her mind to think for itself it always brought up memories that she didn't want to relive, or even glimpse for that matter.

Pulling out a gun Joker aimed it at Quilla, she simply just stared at it, and not a flicker of fear or anything went through her eyes.

"What would you do if I, ah, shot you?" He asked walking closer to her with a grin on his face.

"I'd probably die," she said staring at him with the same dull expression on her face as always. At her response the Joker cackled, if he'd asked a normal girl what she would do she would be begging for him not to shoot her. Here this girl was, looking at him bored and saying that she would die and it looked like she was perfectly okay with that.

"You wouldn't, ah, scream?" He asked with a bit of a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"No," she said turning away from him ever so slightly. Of course this made him angry; people should look at him when he's speaking to them.

"Look at me," he drawled out slowly walking towards where Quilla was sitting. He laughed manically when she didn't look at him, for Quilla this was just another thing that happened in her life, either she would live through it, or die. Dying isn't always a bad thing. "Look at me!" He shouted grabbing the sides of her face and making her look at him.

He still had the gun in his hand so Quilla could feel the cold metal against her cheek, it almost felt soothing. Looking up at him as he licked his lips awkwardly she stared into his eyes with a calm demeanor about her, it was a stare that usually got people stuck in it, wondering about what could cause eyes to look so peaceful.

Joker seemed to be a little fixated on her eyes so when she moved her hand towards his face he didn't notice. Very gently she started to trace the scars on his face, looking at him with a bit of a softer expression she noticed that she was getting some red and white on her fingertips.

"I bet these scars have a nice story beneath them," she said softly. She had a few scars on her body, each of them had a story more interesting than the next, not that she had ever told anyone about them, but they still had stories.

Shaken out of his thoughts the Joker licked his lips unsure of how to get back into composure, with a click of the gun he aimed it at her head.

"I could shoot you," he threatened feeling the edge in his voice. Then she did something that he had not been expecting at all, for a second there was a small smile on her face, the faintest of things it was gone before he could blink.

"So shoot me," she muttered staring at him dully. It was said with a breathless voice that would make any normal person shiver, did she not care that there was a madman pointing a gun at her head? Apparently not, that leaves us to wonder why, so fearless and unemotional in the face of true terror, even the Joker wondered why she was like this.

"No," he laughed letting her head go and skipping around the room. "That would be too, ah, easy," he giggled waving his gun around in the air like a little kid. "You can't just take the easy way out of life," he said with a dark tone turning towards her.

Quilla was still looking at him from her place on the bed, all of this was pointless to her, all the Joker was to her was a man that was going to pass through her life, or end it. Isn't that what everyone is, just a passenger on the trip called your life, they're either going to stay for a while, or leave right away. They're just waiting for their stop. So Quilla just tolerated him, it's not like she was in the middle of something before he got her.

"Why are you like this?" The Joker asked all of a sudden. "Why are you so, ah, cold?" He questioned going to stand at the edge of the bed. "So lifeless, so, ah, dead?" He drawled out the last word. Smirking at her to see what her reaction would be he fidgeted with his gun impatiently.

"Life is a joke, isn't it?" She said with faint traces on a smile on her lips. It was the second time the Joker had seen her show any emotion besides boredom, and it sent a small shiver of excitement through him. She was so interesting!

It was her remark that really made him think, what did that mean to her? Or even to him?

For him life was all about reactions, there was no plan, he just wanted to have fun. For him life was more like a game, or a joke, because the end result was always funny, he called it the punch line for a reason.

"It is a joke," he agreed with a creepy grin. "It's all fun and games right?" He asked in a shout going over to grab onto her shoulder painfully. "Is this fun?" He asked with clenched teeth as he pinned her against the wall and hit her wounded shoulder.

Quilla slammed against the wall hard, feeling the pain reverberate throughout her body she tightened her jaw again the stabbing fire, but otherwise showed no emotion on her face.

"Is it?" He questioned hitting her across the face with the gun. This caused Quilla's head to jerk down towards the floor, not making any sound she looked back up at him as he seemed to heave with anxiousness. Looking back up at him slowly, like a sad child, she caught eyes with him, staring at him as if he was a mirror.

"At least you're having fun," she murmured softly. Her cheek would definitely bruise from the hit she had taken, but Joker had gotten a harder hit, that wasn't what she was supposed to say. She was supposed to break.

With one last laugh he slammed her against the wall and stormed out of the room, closing the door with a crash and locking it from the outside.

He couldn't figure the girl out.

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**This story is definitely interesting to write, just as it is to read I imagine. Its kind of fun, what do you think?**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**I really like this story, I've probably already said this, oh well. Its fun to write about because is pushes my personality to its limits, I wonder faintly if I might ever end up like Quilla. Wouldn't that be something? Enjoy the chapter.**

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It had been a busy day for the Joker, making plans, shooting things, thinking about Quilla, making a couple people scream, and a bunch of other fun stuff. The one thing that kept coming back to his mind was Quilla and the way her fingertips had ever so lightly traced his scars. He had been almost mesmerized by it, the look in her eyes had been so empty looking it felt as if he looked away he would miss something.

It was weird for him to think about a girl all day, especially since his mind went from laughing over thinking about how people squirm to quietly thinking about Quilla and all her silence. He wondered faintly what she had done all day long since she was locked up in that room by herself, what could she do?

Now that it was night time Joker was going to his room, some people did need to sleep after all, having a slight second thought about Quilla he grabbed some leftover food from the kitchen, if that's what you'd call it. For all he knew the girl hadn't eaten since the day before and that had to leave her hungry for some kind of sustenance.

Walking up the stairs to said room Joker looked to see that nothing had changed since he'd left it that morning, of course she was locked in, but he didn't know what she was capable of at all. Unlocking the door he opened it to a dark room, had she not even turned the light on when the sun began to set? Or perhaps she had escaped and the light was not on because there was no one in the room to need the light.

Switching the light on he saw that Quilla was still in the room and that she was sitting against the wall on the opposite side of the room, staring absently out the window on the other side of the wall. The thing that caught the Joker off guard was that while she was staring off into her own imagination it almost looked like she was dead. A creepy thing for a kid her age to do, he wondered what she was thinking about that would make her so motionless like she was.

Locking the door behind him he stuffed the key in his pocket before picking up a towel from the floor, which he threw at Quilla in order to get her attention.

When it hit her in the head Joker almost wanted to laugh and yell _'got you!'_ but he refrained himself when he saw that she merely turned her head to the side and continued on in her travels through her thoughts. With a growl he went over to her and clapped his hands right in front of her face, which he thought would make her jump, but all she did was blink slowly.

Very slowly she looked up at him to see that he was smiling down at her.

"Welcome back," she said dully. It almost made him smile to hear those words come from her lips, he was never able to guess what she was going to say to him, and that by itself was invigorating.

"Are you, ah, hungry?" He asked waving the bag of food in front of her face teasingly.

If she wanted the food he was going to make her beg for it, or just do something for it. He didn't know if she was going to beg or what she was going to do, but she would obviously do something wouldn't she? Since food is important when you're trying to stay alive.

"Maybe," she murmured staring at his face. It was just that stare of hers that made the Joker shiver anxiously; he didn't know what to expect from her, he couldn't even predict what she was going to do, and those eyes. So unwavering, cold, and dead, he almost couldn't stop looking at them.

"You want this?" He questioned swinging the bag back and forth in front of her face, trying to distract her eyes away from looking at his face, it didn't work. "Want it?" He yelled suddenly angry at her.

Why didn't she show any other emotions? Why didn't she care about anything? Why didn't she do anything he wanted? Why? Why? WHY?!

If you don't eat you might, ah, die," he said breathlessly. "Do you want to die?" He questioned looking into her eyes. His face contorted as he watched to see how one might react under these types of questions and actions, she had to care at least a little, didn't she?

"We're all going to die eventually," she whispered under her breath. "It doesn't matter if I die here, or out there," she said looking towards the window now. He almost looked towards the window with her until he realized that he was way more interested in how she looked than how the stupid window looked. "I'll just be another body on the ground," with that she looked back up at the Joker.

She really didn't care; he would have sneered at her if he hadn't been watching her face as she was speaking about dying. For when she said _'body'_ her face twisted ever so slightly as if she were in pain. It was then that Joker felt something rouse within him; the way she showed the lightest bit of emotion was very titillating. It made him feel as if he had achieved something great when he got her to show any type of emotion other than calm deadness, as if she her mind was a maze and you had to say the right thing in order to elicit something from her.

She didn't make any move to take the food from him; it seemed she was rather content with just sitting where she was on the floor and staring off into the nothingness that was her own imagination. There seemed to be something that caught her eye as she slowly went to grab onto his pant leg, feeling the fabric she looked up at him gently before speaking.

"There's a hole in your pants, the fabric is worn," she said softly. He looked into her eyes to see that they held a slight tinge of sleepiness, as if she hadn't slept in a very long time.

Tearing his eyes away from her he threw the bag of food on the ground next to her; there was no point in taunting her with the food if she wasn't going to react in any way that was pleasing. Tearing off his jacket and taking off his pants he began to take off his shoes while just simply staring at her, he almost didn't know what to do with a girl like her.

"Time for, ah, sleep girlie," he muttered with a small giggle in his voice. "You can either sleep on the floor, or with me," he said with a small cackle in his voice. It was definitely apparent that she needed sleep, so he wondered if she would stay on the floor or if he wound find a sleeping buddy half way through the night. "Don't even try to escape, you won't, ah, make it very far," he threatened before going to turn off the lights. He then threw a pillow at her before sitting on the bed and moving the blankets around, there was a little bit of blood on the sheets from Quilla's shoulder, but he didn't care.

Without a second glance Joker turned his back on her and pulled the covers over his body, even as he turned his back on Quilla he couldn't help but think of her. It was a little nauseating how she clouded his mind with unnecessary thoughts; he just couldn't get rid of her. With a few grumbled words he drifted off to the deep silence of sleep without dreams.

It was around two in the morning that he roused awake for a few moments, awoken by his own questions of what Quilla had done; he looked over to where she had been before he drifted off. She was still there, and in the faint light of the room he could barely see that her eyes were still open.

Was she still awake? No, of course she couldn't still be awake, everyone needs sleep, even a criminal like him, a monster like him, needed sleep. Of course there are only so many people that can sleep with their eyes open, and Quilla seemed very much awake. She looked like she always did, eyes blank of emotion, staring slightly towards the ground, any normal person would think her possessed, or that there was something terribly wrong with her. They would be half right, there was definitely something terrible wrong with this girl, but the Joker liked it.

With a shrug of his shoulders Joker turned back over onto his other side and went back to sleep, he would see how she was in the morning now that she had had one night of not sleeping.

In a much nicer building in the city of Gotham there was a man wild at work, searching through police records and newspapers. Looking for a certain event that might help him solve his present dilemma, or at least help him get closer to the final outcome.

Before Bruce Wayne had lost Quilla she had uttered a single name, the name of a person that she claimed to understand.

Alex Beedrum.

If one heard the name they wouldn't think much of it, perhaps they would get a glimmer of recognition in their eyes, they'd heard the name before, but they couldn't remember who it was.

Upon looking him up in police reports Bruce remembered why the name had sounded so familiar. Alex Beedrum was a man who had walked calmly into a grocery store; he looked like a normal college student, just getting his weekly food items. Then he pulled out a gun and started shooting at people randomly, it didn't matter if they were children, or women, or elderly, he didn't care. He killed six people and injured ten others, when the police caught him he didn't even put up a fight, as if he knew what was going to happen.

Reading through all the reports and news articles Bruce found out that Alex was a good kid, he got into a good college, he was a smart guy, had a great childhood, a loving family. Then he quit school and disappeared for a little while, no one knew where he went. When he finally did show up again everyone asked him where he'd gone but he simply smiled and said, _'nowhere.'_ A week later he went to the grocery store.

Mulling over this information Bruce remember what else Quilla had said when she was remembering, something about a journal. It turned out that Alex had written down all his feelings and plans for what he was going to do in a notebook, a journal, and two weeks before the shooting he'd sent it to a psychiatrist. Unfortunately the journal sat in a pile of mail for three weeks before the doctor even looked at it.

So that was what the journal was about, but it still didn't do much to connect Alex and Quilla together. They weren't connected at all, but perhaps it was more of the way she thought about it, because she kept saying that she understood why. She understood why he did it. But what was it? What did she understand?

Walking away from his computer bitterly he got ready to go out for the night, getting all his bat gear on he put his mask on, seeing Alfred from the corner of his eye he waited for him to come over.

"Are you going to look for her?" Alfred asked with a bit of worry in his voice. He wanted to find out what had happened to Quilla just as much as Bruce did, for when the girl was younger she had been such a lovely girl. Always had a smile on her face, always happy, he wished he could see that girl again.

"I'll keep looking for her until I find her," he said before getting into his car and driving off. He couldn't even imagine what Joker was doing to her, and why he even wanted her in the first place, he just knew that he had to get her back.

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**Now you know who that dude is, did that help your theory about Quilla at all? By the way Alex Beedrum is totally fiction, it is similar to something that has happened, but I made this character up. **

**What did you think? Do you think the Joker is starting to like Quilla?  
**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**It took me a little longer than usual, I had to think about this one a lot, and when I finally got into the groove of writing it my sister made me go to her friends special fifteenth birthday party. ( it has a special name that starts with a Q, but I don't want to butcher the spelling) So sorry for that, or whatever. Enjoy the chapter.**

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When the Joker woke up the next morning the sun was just peeping over the clouds, making them look yellow, purple, orange, and pink in the cool air of the morning. At first he had no thought of what Quilla had done, or anything about her, but the second that caught sight of the colors outside the window his mind snapped to her immediately.

He wondered what she would think of the sunrise, and then this thought made him turn sharply to the right, looking to see if she was still there from the night before. Indeed she was, in almost the same position as last night, save that her head was tilted towards the window as she gazed at the world outside of it.

The way she stared so unwaveringly out into the sky made Joker want to stare out it himself, maybe glimpse the wonder that was going on inside of Quilla's own mind. Of course that would be impossible, if he could even read Quilla's eyes he would know more about her then he actually did, but that was the thing. He couldn't read her eyes, usually he was very good at picking out emotions from people's expressions and the look in their eyes, but with Quilla he couldn't.

Even as he looked right at her he couldn't tell if she was bored, or sad, or disappointed. If she played poker she would be very good, except for the fact that she wouldn't actually play it, she'd probably find something interesting on one of the cards and stare at it for an hour.

"Good morning," Quilla said in a soft voice.

There was something about the way she said it, perhaps the tone in her voice, the gentleness, the soothing whisper in which she uttered it. It made something inside him churn slightly, it was an unfamiliar feeling, not a bad feeling, just something he hadn't felt in a while. It could have been the simple fact that after she said it he felt that something about the room had changed. As if it had gotten brighter, or warmer.

Quilla's simple morning greeting had filled something in his heart that he didn't even know needed filling, something that he had long since forgotten. For all the time that he spent planning crimes and tricking the police and killing people, he had never really had a companion. With Quilla in his room and speaking to him there was a small bit of loneliness that broke away from him.

Groaning almost silently Joker sat up and looked over at her to see that the bag of food looked almost untouched, it didn't look like she ate anything at all, and it certainly didn't look like she cared.

"Did you eat anything?" He asked in a small grumble. He was a little tired of playing the_ 'have you eaten yet?' _game. He didn't want the girl to die on him; she was proving to be someone worth holding onto.

"No," she said in a breathless voice. The Joker sighed before looking back down at his bed, white, red, and black makeup was smeared all across the pillows and bed sheets. It was then that he had a small idea that made him smile and chuckle as he got up and got dressed.

Going into the bathroom he got his white and black colors and walked over to where Quilla was still sitting and staring out the window. With a small cackle he grabbed her chin and made her look at him, she didn't at first, but then she was staring right into his eyes, piercing his with her own. He had to shake himself in order to not loose himself for a little bit.

"You're, ah, coming with me today," he said with a laugh and a weird smile.

With that said he went to work with covering her face with white, she didn't protest at all, not that he had been expecting her to, it just felt like he was putting makeup on a doll or something. Switching off between fixing his own white face and covering hers he laughed as her face began to change slightly. He even put black around her eyes just as he did with his own, save that he put black on her lips instead of red. Red didn't look like it was really her color.

Taking a step back he looked at her as if he was a painter looking at his canvas. With a final laugh he went back to the bathroom to put down his makeup before coming back into the room. From across the room Quilla looked like a sad clown, or a beautifully made doll, if he'd thought that she could capture his attention before he was wrong. For now as she slowly looked up at him he found himself falling into thought, looking at her as if she was a puzzle or a maze.

"Where are we going?" She asked faintly. It was the comment that broke him from his thoughts. It was then that he realized her bandage was in terrible shape, probably because he had slammed her against the wall and purposefully hit her in the shoulder. The blood had dried, leaving the bandage with a sort of crusty look.

With a small growl he went back into the bathroom and grabbed some bandages, he didn't want his little doll do get an infection or anything from this, that would be very unfortunate. It didn't take him long to change it, throwing the bloodied ones into a corner of the room without a care, all he did was sleep in here.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly. He hadn't been expecting that, if any of his other captives made it this far, which there had only been a few, they didn't take kindly to him doing them any kind of favor.

"You're, ah, welcome," he said before opening the door and walking out of it. He then realized that during all that time that he had been awake and putting stuff on Quilla's face she had not moved, so why would she move now? Turning back around he saw that she was looking at her new bandage, running her fingertips over it slowly.

Again he wondered what she was thinking, what could be so interesting about a bandage?

Going back to her he grabbed her by her good arm and yanked her to her feet before dragging her off down the hall and down the stairs behind him, he had a feeling that if he let go she might wonder off and get lost. Which could very well happen with Quilla seeing as she had done that once before.

For Quilla everything went by slowly, when they were in one of his vans all she did was run her fingertips across her bandage and remember a time when she was left alone in the hospital after a surgery.

Suddenly all around her the walls were white, as if she were actually in the hospital again. She could feel the itchy fabric of the bed sheets beneath her legs; she could smell the chemical smell of a clean bathroom a few feet away from her. The cold morphine that seeped up her vein whenever she needed it, and the ever growing emptiness of being alone and the silence that came with it. No amount of television made her feel any less lonely, she could hear the footsteps of nurses passing by the rooms but never going in.

Hospitals really are such lonely places.

It was when the van stopped that the white walls around her were flooded with the color of the real world; the face of the Joker flooded into her sight as he grabbed at her arm and pulled her from the van. Behind her the Hospital was gone, the smells and itchiness left her, but the empty feeling of loneliness did not.

As they were driving the Joker looked back at Quilla curiously, she was staring at the door of the van with a sort of vacant look in her eyes, as if she were somewhere else entirely. As he continued to watch her he saw that her eyes held a flicker of sadness in them for a second before it was gone, whatever she was thinking about wasn't a happy thing. If anything the white and black on her face made her emotions stand out more, which was good for him.

Even when the van made a sharp turn her gaze, her vacant stare, didn't change, though there did seem to be a small expression of pain on her face. It lightened in a few moments as if someone had given her a shot to ease the worst of it.

When the van stopped he had to bring himself to look away from her, it was like he was reading a book, or trying to solve a riddle. The riddle of Quilla, because no one knows what happened to her.

Today the Joker was just going to drop in on a meeting of the higher ups in this part of town; he just wanted everyone to know that he was, in fact, back on the streets, and that they should be wary of him. They didn't know he was coming, which was good, he always liked the surprise that he was able to get from everyone.

With Quilla in tow he pushed the doors open to see four people jump at the sight of him, while all of the other merely sank backwards into their chairs, embracing themselves for what would likely come.

"Well, well, well, ah, hello," he murmured sitting down in a random chair and making Quilla sit down in the chair next to him. For a moment it seemed as if everyone was looking at the girl sitting down next to the Joker, the paint on her face, the black around her eyes, had they ever seen someone like her before? Had they ever seen someone walk with the Joker and sit down next to him with such a vacant look in their eyes?

No they hadn't. There was one man in particular that couldn't help but stare at the girl as the Joker went on with whatever he was talking about. The whole time the Joker spoke the girl stared blankly out in front of her, not necessarily looking at anyone or anything, but more of looking past everyone and everything. As if she was in a different world, a different place.

The man's name was Aaron Thatcher, one of the more secret power holders of lower Gotham; he often attended meetings as an assistant rather than a leader. After all, he enjoyed watching and listening more than leading, and planning.

This girl was definitely worth watching; for he was almost a little transfixed by the way she could just block everything out, even amidst the talking and the yelling.

The Joker was finished talking in no time at all, laughing and standing up with a certain level of haste that only a madman like him could ever uphold. He grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her to her feet, which was when Aaron noticed the bandages on her shoulder. He could only guess that it meant the girl was a hostage, that he had taken her away from somewhere and now kept her with him at all times because she was leverage for something he might be planning.

For mere moments the girl looked up slowly and caught Aaron's eyes, staring at him vacantly it was as she was looking right through him, as if he were a window she could look out of. For that moment Aaron froze slightly, for some reason he felt that if he looked away from the girl she might do something he would miss. For that moment it felt as if they were the only two people in the room, he felt that if he reached out far enough he could touch her.

In the next moment she was gone, taken away by the very man he wanted nothing to do with. Leaning against the wall Aaron sort of slumped down into a chair, surprising the man next to him enough to ask what was wrong with him.

Covering his face with his hands Aaron leaned backwards in the chair, appalled by his own thoughts. His first reaction to her leaving was to go get her, the way she captivated him with her eyes so simply was invigorating for him. Smiling and letting his hands fall away from his face he looked over at the man with a wicked grin that made the man shiver slightly.

"I want that girl," he stated in the silence of the room. All of them were nervous around the Joker, because the man was unpredictable, he was rash and impetuous, everything was just for fun and he wasn't afraid to laugh in anybody's face. Aaron was also a man of vigor and strength, if the two of them were to cross it would definitely be something to watch, but none of them would place a bet on Aaron.

Back in the van Quilla stared at the back of the seat in front of her.

"What did you think of our, ah, friends?" The Joker asked with a small chuckle.

"They are wary of you," she muttered blandly before looking up at him.

"Of course they are," he laughed. "People are afraid of what they can't control," he said turning towards the driver. "Isn't that right?" He asked the man in a throaty whisper. He then pulled out his gun and pointed it at the drivers head, the man shook visibly and widened his eyes.

Quilla turned away from him them, looking at the walls of the van again, she slipped back into the hospital room, except this time it was different. This time there were doctors and nurses surrounding her, their faces an empty mask of white, walking around the room as if they were walking through a store.

In the van she reached out and touched the bottom of the van, feeling the rough fabric and wiry hairs of the rug. In the hospital she reached out and touched a blanket that covered her legs, looking past the doctors and nurses towards a bed where the blanket completely covered the man. There were other patients all over the room, but none of them held her attention as much as the one that wasn't moving. To this day she could still remember the taste of something bitter on her tongue as she looked at that bed, she fell into unconsciousness, and when she woke up the bed was gone.

When the Joker realized that Quilla was no longer watching he stopped tormenting his driver and left him alone, looking back at the girl he couldn't help but stare at how the paint makeup on her face made her look so innocent. A fashion photographer would have more vibrant words to describe how she looked, they might put her on the cover of a magazine and call it art, but the Joker had another word for it.

Vacant. It was as if she had left her body behind in order to leave reality behind as well, her body breathed and functioned, but she wasn't there. The makeup made her look pretty, and cute, and doll-like, but she didn't care at all. It was just something else she was wearing that covered her face, covered her skin.

Now as they pulled up to a grocery store, the Joker needed to get some food in order to function like a human being needed to, he was also going o make sure Quilla ate something before she had problems. Pulling the door open he watched as her eyes looked up at him slowly before looking past him and looking at where they were.

That was the first time he saw recognition flash in her eyes, like a gust of wind it was there for a moment and then gone the next. Even through all the screaming, and running around, and dragging her from the produce and the frozen she didn't once look up at him with that look again. In fact for the rest of the day there seemed to be a sort of fortress of emotionless air about her, he could do nothing to get her attention.

It made the Joker anxious, it made him excited and curious, a simple grocery store had caused her to go back into her memories and live there for a while. When they finally got back to the hideout the Joker couldn't help but feel a certain amount of energy rising in him, urging him to find out what had happened.

It was definitely curious, why would a grocery store do anything to make anyone freeze up like that for so long. It must have been a deep memory for her to get like that. Perhaps it was time for him to do a little research, because a thought, an urge like this, would not leave his mind easily.

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**What did you think? Are you feeling the same urge, the same pull as the Joker?**

**By the way I'm starting college tomorrow, its my first day of classes. Wish me luck, I'm feeling a little nervous.  
**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Wow it has been a long time for this story, sorry about that. College has been time consuming, all I've written recently is College writing homework, which is depressing and maddening. It was a relief to write this, so I hope you enjoy it.**

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After locking Quilla up in the bedroom the Joker went about his research, though Quilla had said nothing to him after he'd asked for her last name he was determined to figure out why she had frozen up so suddenly. He was definitely curious about why his little captive had changed so much in a manner of seconds, and why she had yet to break free from the mess of thoughts that was her mind.

The thought of asking a private detective or someone else to figure out information for him never crossed his mind, for it was a simple craving an urge to find out for himself. If someone else knew about why she was like that it would ruin the whole feeling of secrecy, if only he knew, would their bond not strengthen?

First he searched just _'Quilla,' _seeing if he would get any hits. No luck found him there, but he had other searches is mind. Delving deeper into the endless information that is the internet he came across many things that were of slight interest to him, and many things that didn't help him at all. He found out that with how Quilla was acting she had depression and insomnia, which would have been easy to guess anyway. He found dead ends and locked doors, comics, and elegies, until finally he found what he was looking for.

A grocery store shooting that happened in the last five years, he almost clapped with joy when the page loaded and showed its ugly information on what happened.

A man named Alex Beedrum went to a local grocery store with guns and other weapons, shooting anyone that happened upon his sight. First of all the Joker liked the idea of a man like that, he must have had so much fun doing that, or perhaps he did it for another reason. His second thought was that Quilla must have been one of the victims that were in the store, but after reading the list he found her name nowhere.

This made him frustrated, if she wasn't there when it happened why had it affected her so much? That was the real question.

It was the same question that Bruce was asking himself, why had she been affected by something that had nothing to do with her? Pacing around his room he got a hit on youtube with Quilla's name.

**Crazy Scary Open mike Night skit, **it read in bold above the video. _Some weird kilds at my school named Quilla Aberni, Scott Drids, and Hunter Garcia performing a sad, but awesome skit for our school's tenth open mike night.' _Is what the description said.

Clicking play on the video Bruce studied anything that the video caught sight of.

At first the curtain was in the way, obviously they were in a theatre or something similar, the next thing that caught everyone's attention was the soft melody of a xylophone ringing throughout the theatre. There was still soft chattering amongst the people in the crowd, but soon it halted when the curtain was removed to reveal another curtain blocking the person behind it. The lights in the theatre dimmed, making the talking stop, and a light behind the new curtain turned on, illuminating the person behind it. There was now the silhouette of someone behind the curtain.

Bruce was sure that Quilla was behind there because the figure seemed more feminine, and since the other two people were boys she was the obvious choice.

"Suicide," a voice echoed through the theatre eerily. Suddenly the figure behind the curtain had a gun in their hands, the camera zoomed in and you could tell that their hand was shaking. Everyone in the audience was more quiet that people at a funeral. The figure pointed the gun at their head and a few seconds later dropped to the ground, letting the soft thump ring out in the theatre.

"Why would you want to pull the trigger?" The question hung in the air as the light behind the curtain turned off for a few seconds. When it turned back on the figure on the ground was gone. Three people walked into shadow form, two of them on one side, the one that held the gun in the first scene on the other.

"Why would anyone want to pull the trigger?" The voice asked again. By now the audience was transfixed with whatever was going to happen next, the opening scene had definitely stolen the show.

Bruce watched the whole twelve minute video, which consisted of a girl, Quilla, going out with her boyfriend and getting beat by him and berated by his friend. Reaching out to people who might help her only to find out that they didn't care, even going as far to show her parents disregarding her soft pleading words. The whole skit was done with shadows, meaning that all anyone ever saw was a black figure, getting thrown around by everyone they went up to. Of course the different people all the looked the same since there were really only three actors, but that didn't matter.

As the skit progressed farther and farther the question repeated itself losing a few words as it was asked again and again. Finally it showed the girl sitting in a chair and crying, her head in her hands, the silent weeping burning itself into everyone's minds and memories.

At that point in the video the question was no longer a question.

"Pull the trigger," it whispered hauntingly throughout the theatre.

The figure picked up the same gun it had had in the opening scene.

"Pull the trigger," the voice said again.

This time people in the audience gasped as the figure stood up and turned the gun on herself, you could even hear someone in the crowd crying softly.

"Pull the trigger," the voice was getting louder now.

The figure shook her head sadly, as if doubting her decision to end her own life. At this point someone in the audience was shouting and yelling with a shaking voice.

"Don't! Don't do it!" Of course the skit was fake, but everyone in the audience had heard about people who committed suicide in order to get away from people lying to them, people rejecting them, and from people that passed them by without helping. This was hitting everyone where it hurt.

"PULL THE TRIGGER!" The voice screamed leaving an echo to ring out for a mere second before a gunshot followed it. Again the figure fell to the ground just as it had in the beginning of the skit, but this time the silence in the theatre was so heart wrenching and quiet it was as if someone had actually died. It was all too real.

Suddenly the curtain was yanked free and the audience could finally see the person behind it.

Quilla had been the one who _'shot'_ herself. A girl ran from backstage ran up to look at her, probably one of her friends, actor of course, but now that there was no curtain you could see her emotions. At first her face contorted into one of disbelief, before it warped into one of pure shock and sadness.

"Nooo!" The girl wailed picking up Quilla's limp body.

Bruce felt a shiver pass through him; the scene was so vivid. It shook him, sending something awful through his body. The cry ripped through everyone in the audience, making more people cry and shake.

"Pay attention to everyone around you," a softer, kinder voice echoed throughout the shaking theatre. "Pay attention, because they might be planning something like this," it warned. "Pay attention," it faded off creepily.

That was when the curtain closed off the sight of Quilla and her friend from the audience, leaving them to weep in silence. At first there was no applause, but someone stood up and started clapping, probably a teacher, because no one else had the nerve to clap after watching something like that.

The video cut off, leaving some white words from the girl who had taped the whole thing.

'_Everyone was crying, I cried. What did you think? Are you going to pay attention now?'_ Is what she had written at the end of the video before it completely stopped.

Bruce didn't know what to say, did this mean that Quilla had these feelings? Did it mean that she had really wanted to kill herself?

Looking at the information of the video he found that it was uploaded a year before Alex Beedrum had even thought of entering the grocery store. But what did that mean? Had she always shad these sorts of thought rattling around in her brain?

Browsing through some of the comments Bruce saw that a handful of them spoke about how they knew someone who committed suicide, and how they had cried as well. The video had about thirteen hundred views, but it was enough for people to repost it over and over again, claiming that they had been there.

One comment stuck with Bruce even as he patrolled the streets that night. The commenter's name was said to be _PunyPerson2265 _he wrote. "That one line is stuck in my head, Pull the trigger! Because that really is how some of us think."

It was true, Pull the trigger! That one line was reverberating though Bruce's mind like an echo in a canyon.

On the other side of the city the Joker had come across the same video by pure Chance, Quilla's first name popped up on a website against bullying and suicide. It also had her last name, which he now knew to be Aberni, but it was the video that occupied his time for twelve minutes.

By the end of the video he didn't know if he should be shaking with laughter or anticipation, was this really the same Quilla that was sitting up in his bedroom staring at the wall and not sleeping? Could they possibly be the same person? They had the same face, but that was about it, nothing else was the same at all, or at least, not anymore.

Now he wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything about her, everything! Now that he knew her last name it wouldn't be as hard to find more information about her, it would be more like a treasure hunt than anything else.

He found out that she used to live in New Mexico and that she liked to read and write from a page that had information about the people in the skit. From another website he found that Quilla had tried to put some f her photography online, but given up after not getting many views or comments.

He found her facebook page, which had only had two pictures on it, perhaps it had had more on it at an earlier moment in her life, but all it had was one comment that said. "See you later." A picture of her new short haircut and a notebook that said _'Green Eyes' _on the front cover.

With all this new information surging through his veins the Joker rushed up the stairs to where Quilla was locked up in his bedroom. Unlocking the door he opened it to see that she was still sitting against the wall staring at the ground, she didn't look up at him.

"Hello," she muttered blandly. So she had recovered from her little adventure into her memories, which was good at least.

"I liked your, ah, suicide skit," he commented hoping to get some sort of reaction from her.

"Thank you," she murmured still not meeting his eyes. From the day's events her clown make-up was slightly smeared, mixing the black with the white and turning it grey.

Disappointed with her reaction the Joker flopped down on the bed suddenly tired, as if just talking to her used a lot of his energy. It bugged him to no end that he still knew almost nothing about her, maybe he could make a call to her house if he figured out her number, would her parents pick up? Would that bring any sort of emotion out of her if he threatened her parents?

Drifting off to sleep he had an inkling of thought in his mind that she wouldn't care at all.

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**So what did you think of that skit thing? **

**I'm actually considering grabbing some of my friends and recreating it, just writing it on the fly gave me shivers. I don't have school on Friday's so I'll try to update my stories every Friday from now on.  
**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Whoo, two updates in one day. My brain needs to take a break from all the brainstorming it has done, poor brain. Well, enjoy the reading.**

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When the Joker finally roused awake his first thought was to check up on Quilla, had she slept this time? Looking over towards her corner of the room he could barely see anything with the scarce light that shone through the window lazily. He could see her figure outlined in the form of a dark shadow, which reminded him of the skit he'd watched the night before. She was so much different than when she put that skit on.

"Good morning," she murmured softly. Again, she said good morning, that meant that she'd either been awake the whole night again, or that she'd woken up perhaps an hour before him. But of course he suspected that it was the first one, which meant that she hadn't slept at all the whole night, this was what, the second night? The third night?

Soon she would simply lose consciousness, falling into a world where she would have no choice but to careen into a world of darkness and dreams.

"Don't you sleep?" He questioned rubbing his face groggily. He looked at her with curious eyes as she continued to look at the ground and away from him, in the dim light he saw that her eyes were open and blank of emotion.

A silly thought entered his brain, he couldn't help but imagine Quilla in the sort of situation where she tossed and turned from a bad dream.

"You aren't afraid of, ah, nightmares are you?" He cackled before rising to his feet.

"Yes," her faint voice came to him. Startled by her answer the Joker turned around to face her, she'd answered him! That made him excited, perhaps today she was in more of a chatty answering mood.

"Why?" He drawled out moving closer to her. That was when she looked up at him with a different sort of expression in her eyes, something that screamed determination at him, he wanted to look further but as soon as he recognized what it was, it was gone. Leaving her eyes dead and emotionless once again, staring at him with what looked like an exhausted face.

"Because if I dream, I remember," she said without taking her eyes off of his. Something about the way she spoke to him, the way she replied to his questions made the Joker tingle with anticipation. Quilla was like a jigsaw puzzle, first he had to find the right words to say, before fitting them into place.

"Remember what?" He pushed further. He wanted to know everything about her, everything! But first he had to break her open, unlocking one door at a time, and there were so many doors.

"Everything," she said in a faint voice. It happened then, Quilla tilted her head towards the Joker ever so slightly before asking her own question.

"Do you always wake up alone?" She asked in the same faint voice.

Perhaps it was the question, or the voice she was speaking in, but for some reason the Joker felt unable to answer her, as if he was losing himself in her again. Why would she ask such a question of him? Did she really care what the answer was? She probably already knew what the answer would be; of course he always woke up alone, had she seen anyone that he was close to? No, there was never anyone he kept for more than a few days, usually he tired of their begging and pleading to be released, so he killed them. Or, something he found to be more entertaining, shot them in the leg and watched them struggle to get away, it was funny sometimes.

Quilla was a different story, when he had her his days went by slowly as he watched what she would do, how she reacted to certain things. He'd even forgotten how many days it had been since he'd taken her from that mental health center. When he was with her he felt that if he took his eyes off her for even a second he might miss something, and he didn't want to miss anything.

"Sometimes I wake up with, ah, women next to me," he said with an evil laugh. Whenever he brought a hostage back to his hideout he always asked them whether they wanted to sleep on the floor or in the bed with him.

A few seconds went by with Quilla looking at the Joker dully before she turned her head away from him silently.

"Liar," she spoke softly.

Snapping suddenly the Joker lurched forwards and grabbed Quilla by her bad shoulder, pulling her to her feet he smiled sickeningly at her.

"Liar, ah Liar," he laughed in her face manically. "How do you know that's a lie?" He questioned in a raspy voice. "How do you know?" He shouted shaking her roughly.

Why did it make him so angry that she'd called him a liar? Why?

It made him angry because she had been teasing him hadn't she? Asking him a question when she already knew the answer, of course when girls went to sleep next to them he always woke up when they were trying to escape. He woke up when they tried to kill him while he slept, he did wake up alone. The other part of him wanted to see how Quilla would react to him responding so violently and harshly, or did she know that this was a bluff as well?

"You're a very good actor," she commented making him freeze slightly. She was looking at him again, with those dull eyes; he didn't want to look away.

"Of course I am," he chortled smirking at her. All traces of anger left him and he was once again a smiling man with smeared make-up all over his face. She too had make-up smeared all over her face, not that she cared, the only thing the one make-up gave her was an anonymous face in everything the Joker dragged her around to do.

Setting her on her feet the Joker went into the bathroom to fix his face, leaving Quilla standing in her corner of the room ignoring the waves of pain that blew through her veins from her recently injured shoulder.

"You're so, ah, smart," he laughed from the bathroom. "So smart," he shouted happily.

Everything about Quilla made him think, her short cryptic answers, her expressions, even the way she carried herself said something about what she'd been through. The night before as he'd scoured the internet looking for any type of information on her he'd been excited, it was like a treasure hunt. Last night he'd figured out her last name and found her facebook page, what would he find tonight, where she grew up? Pictures form friends' accounts on different websites? More skits?

The main thing he liked about Quilla was that he didn't know what to expect. With other captives or hostages he knew that they would do one of many things, and when they happened he would shake his head and laugh. People were always so predictable it made him sick sometimes. But with Quilla, she was always surprising him; from the first moment they spoke he knew something was off about her.

She wasn't afraid of him.

Then he had to take this morning into account. She said that she was afraid of nightmares and therefore afraid of falling asleep, because she would remember everything. Since the Joker had no idea what everything meant he was still left in the dark, though it didn't stop his mind from wandering and creating his own explanation to what she did not say.

Walking out of the bathroom he glanced at her to see that she had her hand out, touching the wall with the very tips of her fingers, slowly moving them across its surface. With the same dull expression on her face the Joker could only imagine what she was thinking about; did that random wall somehow trigger a memory for her? Or did she lose herself in a story that was not her own?

When the Joker had gone into the bathroom and suddenly gotten quiet Quilla lightly ran her fingertips across the wall behind her, letting all thoughts of pain and discomfort leave her mind she found herself sinking into another memory. Closing her eyes for a moment she opened them to an old familiar place.

Running her fingertips against the bumpy wall of her old house she stood motionless by the door to her parents room, something had happened that day and her parents were talking about it in their room. The faint murmur of voices attracted her eyes as she tried to look through a crack in the door, were they talking about her again?

Feeling a bit of sickness rise in her stomach she had the urge to turn away from the room, but her body wouldn't let her, or perhaps it was her mind, she wanted to know what they were talking about. Were they talking about her? Were they talking about how badly she'd done that day?

She knew how she'd done; it wasn't as if she was keeping it a secret or anything.

"She should have stayed home," a faint voice from inside the room complained.

Quilla stopped running her fingers over the bumpy wall when she heard the creaking of the floor beneath the carpet, this meant that they were walking towards the door, they would find her! Without a sound she moved backwards towards the stairs, and then something pulled her from her memory roughly. In her mind's eye she saw herself trip and fall down the stairs, propelled by an unknown force that seemed intent on taking her with them.

She wanted to cry out, the feeling of falling gripped her stomach tightly, she hated this memory, she hated it!

Closing her eyes she whisked it all away, forcing it back into her mind like an unwanted toy. When she opened her eyes she saw that the Joker was dragging her along with him, perhaps that was where the falling feeling had come from.

Thinking about what to do for the day the Joker pulled Quilla into another van and decided that they would go have some fun with some rich people, wreck a museum or something fun like that. Of course all of them would wonder about the girl with make-up on her face, which would make the stories about him even weirder.

After delving deeper into his train of thought the Joker decided against taking Quilla with him to a museum or a public place. If people saw her they'd start asking questions, she wouldn't be his fun little puzzle anymore, she'd be everyone's mystery, and he wanted her for himself. If everyone was trying to figure out things about her, it was less of a treasure hunt and more of a scavenger hunt, which took the fun right out of it.

Grabbing an apple from his poor excuse for a kitchen he handed it to Quilla with a playful but stern glare on his face.

"Eat this," he growled more darkly than he'd planned.

He was tired of her not eating anything. In all the time he'd had her she had eaten nothing, not even when he stole food, fresh food, and special for her. He didn't really mind about that part, what really bugged him was that if she didn't eat she would die, but she didn't seem to care, did that mean that she was intentionally not eating? Was she trying to kill herself by starvation?

Taking the apple from his hand Quilla stared at it, the dull green of it meant that it was probably a granny smith apple, it had been her favorite kind as a child, but now, all it did was drag her back into her unwanted memories.

Finally deciding on what they were going to do today the Joker threw Quilla into one of the white vans that he seemed to have an abundance of. He then took over as driver, looking back at her and laughing before shooting off down the road, they were going to explore the more underground areas of business in the city. He had to let everyone know that he was back, and that they should still fear him because he had nothing to lose.

Sitting with the apple in her hand Quilla stared down at it, she could almost taste the sweet sourness of granny smith juice on her tongue and feel the crispness of the fruit between her teeth. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to bite the apple, caught in a sort of trance she bit into it slowly. The familiarity of the juice and the crunchiness made her stomach ache; this was not what she wanted. Did everything have to remind her of something she'd hidden away?

Letting her hand fall to her side she released the apple from her grip, watching as it rolled across the ground of the van as they turned and hit bumps in the road.

When they arrived the Joker pulled Quilla out of the van, holding her in place behind him he caught sight of the apple on its side. Slightly curious he grabbed the apple, turning it towards his eyes he saw that she had taken one bite out of it, just one. Not big enough to make her look hungry, and not small enough to make it look like she was mocking him. It looked like she'd taken a wary bite, scared that somehow it would harm her.

Looking at Quilla he saw that she was staring at the apple in his hand, obviously she did not want to take any further chunks off of it, so what was it about a simple apple that caught her eyes?

Trying to be a little nicer with the way he treated his mystery, his puzzle, his Quilla, the Joker grabbed her wrist, throwing the apple on the ground before pulling her off in another direction. Quilla could only imagine what the apple looked like as it rolled on the concrete, imagining that it was on the sidewalk beneath her feet she kept her eyes on the ground.

The taste of granny smith apple was still on her tongue, reminding her of things she did not want to be reminded of.

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**As I continue to write this story I find myself falling further and further into creating the mystery that is Quilla, it actually quite intoxicating. Sometimes I get so strung up in her feeling I start to think the way she does, drifting off into memories and fantasies that steal away my mind.**

**I think it's quite cool, except when I'm in class and come back to reality not remembering anything the teacher said. That's the downside.  
**

**Anyway, what did you think?  
**

**Thanks for reading.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**I realize its been a couple weeks, and I'm sorry for that, I just wanted to make sure I had a solid idea for what to do in this chapter. Anyway, read on.**

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The joker took Quilla to a more underground part of Gotham, figuring he could meet up with the boss of the place and work some things out. For a moment when he entered the men working the gate thought he was alone, though it was a gross understatement, he'd brought a few bodyguards with him, and when the Joker spoke about body guards he meant it as a human shield. To guard his body with theirs.

Dragging Quilla along with him she kept her eyes on the ground, scarcely looking around to see where she was her eyes wavered as if she was ready to fall asleep. It happened weekly. Quilla wouldn't sleep for days at a time, refusing to eat, refusing to rest; it all took a morbid toll on her body.

Eventually she would just pass out from exhaustion, forcing who ever happened upon her body to feed her through a tube until she had gotten better or until she woke up and felt that she had to eat something.

She wasn't starving herself, no, starvation was too painful. She'd gotten close once, but the constant aching and painful cramps of her stomach made her want to eat just to ease the pain enough to where she could at least wonder around again.

When she passed out though, that was when her mind went crazy. Remembering everything she had locked away so carefully, ripping happy smiles to pieces, there was no end to the nightmares that haunted her while she slept. That was why she refused to sleep like any normal person would, because she didn't want to remember, for if she remembered she might want to go back. Of course she would know that her mind was playing tricks on her, because she would never go back, but it was always the thought that made her suffer the most.

For when she questioned that one thought again, everything rushed back into her mind. Torturing her, making her pull herself deeper and deeper into an emotionless world full of things she did not want to speak of.

So as she walked behind the Joker like a doll being dragged around by a child, all she could think about was the way every footstep sounded like a heartbeat. Coming one after the other like a healthy heart and then switching to an irregular one when the Joker stopped to talk to something.

It reminded her of high school and her brother, but mostly it reminded her of Edgar Allen Poe, and his Tell Tale Heart. One year in English she had been required to recite a poem of the teachers choosing, Quilla had been given Tell Tale Heart, only a section of it, and was instructed to either perform it for extra credit, or recite it for an average grade.

She' thought it'd be cool to perform it, so she worked on making her words sound rushed and crazy, just like the way it sounded in the poem.

She thought it was quite cool at first, even asking her friend to get a recording of a heart beating so she could perform it with something in the background to work off of. Her teacher gave her an A+, and her friends had laughed at her, saying that it was almost funny the way she had performed.

Now as she thought back to the memory she found herself reciting the words in her head, images of the day in class flashed in her brain. The proud smile of her teacher, the bored stares of her classmates, and the cruel laughter of her friends who she hoped would have enjoyed it.

The poem itself was creepy, all of its lines held a certain edge that would make some people cringe, but her favorite line had always been.

"It was the beating of his hideous heart," she whispered in the softest of voices.

With that said Quilla shrugged off her memory, clearing her clouded eyes she looked around the room she was standing in, she'd not been paying any attention to where the Joker had been taking her. Perhaps it was the footsteps that had driven her so far back into her memories, even now she could still hear the heartbeat sounding in her head. Not her own heartbeat, for she imagined that it sounded very different than it actually did, but a beating, hideous heart.

The Joker looked down at Quilla when he thought he'd heard her whisper something, but she still looked as though her mind was elsewhere. He saw her eyes move slowly across the room and could only guess that she had finally broken free of her memories and decided to join the world again.

He had taken her all the way to the back of the building, where the lights were dim enough to make it feel like night time, even in the middle of the day. To the left of them there was an old sofa sitting against a wall, Quilla could recall every mafia movie she'd ever seen where a man lay dead on a couch similar to that. In front of them was a door that the Joker understood to be the only thing that stood in the way of him and the main boss in the area. It'd been easy to get past all the guards and rooms; no one questioned the man with paint on his face who dragged a girl behind him.

Striding forward the Joker knocked on the door wildly, each time the sound was muffled due to the fact that he was wearing gloves. Quilla looked now to the gloved hand that held her arm; it was black and worn looking, as if he only had one pair that he'd worn for the past few years.

"Knock, knock, ah, hello," he said with a chuckle before turning the handle cautiously.

Inside the room was a couple of men from the other day, one of them looked very unhappy to see him while the other seemed like he couldn't care less. The unhappy man waved the other one away before looking at the Joker.

"What do you want?" He asked in a very gruff voice.

"I just want to, ah, talk," the Joker said sitting himself down in a chair. The man looked at him warily, of course he had good reason to, a man like the Joker was unpredictable, and he could have come in just to shoot people today.

Looking past the Joker the man glared at the other man that had been in the room with him before catching sight of the Quilla who was just standing there like a mannequin.

"Who's that?" He questioned motioning his head towards the girl.

"She's my friend," the Joker cackled, the man couldn't see what was so funny. The girl looked like she was ready to pass out; her eyes looked heavy while her body seemed to move rather slowly as well.

"Make her sit down, and then we'll talk," he said moving his eyes back towards the other man.

With an impatient sigh the Joker stood up and turned towards Quilla quickly, knowing that she would do nothing to move for him he picked the girl up around the waste before walking her over to the couch and setting her down carefully.

"Thank you," she said softly. The Joker would have said something in return had he not been in the middle of something, even in a place like this Quilla had nothing to say, no emotions on her face at all.

Taking one last glance at her the Joker went back into the other room where the bored man was walking out of, just as the Joker sat down again the man closed the door and went over to where Quilla was. Standing in front of her he tried to get her attention when she made no notice of him.

"Hello," Quilla said in the same soft voice.

"Good day to you," the man said letting a smile break across his face. The man's name was Aaron Thatcher, and he was more than delighted to see the girl he had been thinking of for a few days sitting in front of him. For some reason the girl had been clouding his thoughts, where had she come from? Of what importance was she to the Joker? Why was he keeping her?

So many questioned had been rushing through his brain and he didn't even know her name yet. She still had yet to look up at him, but was just elated that she had shown up out of nowhere. Of course she came with a raving psycho clown person, but hey, you can't always get what you want.

"My name is Thatcher," he said with a kind smile. "What's your name?" He asked politely. Aaron had the idea that if he gave her his name she might possibly give him hers, but even then he doubted his own thoughts.

"Quilla," she said softly. Aaron bent down so that he could look into her eyes, they were cast towards the ground sleepily making Aaron question whether or not the Joker had been treating her correctly. Her shoulder looked okay, it looked like the bandages had been changed already, though Aaron felt slightly put off when he saw that she had no jacket on. It wasn't exactly warm during the day and all she wore was a simple dress.

If Aaron had Quilla in his company he would at least get her a jacket so she could stay warm, but he had to say that from the look of it Quilla did not care at all. In fact she looked exhausted, bags under her eyes and even her sitting figure seemed to waver where she sat.

"You look like you need some sleep," he muttered looking her over once again.

At that moment Quilla looked up at him, slowly moving her green eyes to where she was staring straight into his own dark blue ones. He found himself getting lost in her eyes, wondering what she could possibly be thinking of all the time, what could make someone like her lose control of their own thoughts?

Aaron had once worked at a mental hospital, he'd seen people who'd lost their grip on reality, people who said nothing, and spoke to no one, people who changed their personalities so fast you couldn't keep up, and people who were just insane. But he'd never met someone like Quilla, the way she spoke was mysterious, always a whisper, a soft kind voice that sounded so innocent even in a world full of dirty people.

Quilla was definitely someone you didn't see every day, for most people that get to a quiet low point like her end their lives so they don't have to keep up with the world that they hate anymore. Here was Quilla, taken captive by a mad man, and she didn't seem to care, in fact, it looked as if the Joker was starting to enjoy having the girl with him.

"I haven't slept in a while," she murmured gently.

This comment from Quilla made Aaron snap back into reality, he had been staring into her eyes, not realizing that his thoughts were getting consumed by the mystery that she was.

"How long?" He questioned suddenly curious as to why she would refuse sleep.

"Days," she whispered looking down at the couch. He noticed that she started to rub her fingers across the old fabric slowly, what was she thinking of now?

"Do you not like sleeping?" He realized that he was just bombarding her with questions, but he wanted to know. Aaron had always been pretty easily excited, jumping at the chance to solve a mystery or investigate something, and Quilla was just one big question mark. He still didn't know who she was and where she'd come from.

"No," her reply was simple and short.

"Why not?" Came another question quickly.

This time there was no reply from her, which made Aaron antsy, he wanted to know. Instead she looked down at her fingers as they slowly rubbed the fabric of the couch, losing herself to something that Aaron could only imagine.

Sighing disappointedly Aaron moved away from the girl and walked over to the opposite side of the room. He wanted her, he wanted her to answer his questions, he wanted to know who she was and who she had been, he wanted to know everything. But how would he capture her if she was in the company of a man such as the Joker, there was almost nothing he could do.

Unless he got involved with the Batman that is.

Letting a smirk crawl onto his face Aaron walked to wards the opposite door in the room, a plan like this would take some time and preparation, but in the end, Quilla would be his.

Just as Aaron left through one of the doors the Joker pushed open the other one and looked at Quilla with a smile on his face, even as she stared at the couch he wanted nothing else to do then get back to his hideout and research her more. Now that he had his business done and over with it was time for some fun.

What was her family like? Were they mean to her? Had one of her friends died? Or had it been one of her family members? Who were her best friends? What was she like before?

Everything, he wanted to know all of her secrets and all of her dreams. If he brought them up to her, would she talk to him more? Would she be willing to let some of her past speak through her mouth? Or would she stare at him with her empty eyes and not respond to him at all? He suspected the latter of them, perhaps she would talk, and perhaps she would not.

Grabbing her arm he began to pull her back through the building, passing people who stared and glared at him, collecting his men along the way he glanced down at Quilla so see that she was staring at the ground again.

If only there was a device that allowed you to watch people's memories, for he could spend days watching hers. Then he would know everything about her, and what had happened to her. Alas all he could do was imagine what had happened in order for her to end up like this.

There was a version in his mind of her parents beating her, and perhaps that had lead up to her closing herself off from the world, not trusting anyone with anything she had to say. But that just seemed folly for there were many holes in his story.

He'd just have to find out.

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**So while I was writing this I got a huge idea for this story, and how that idea will lead up to the end of this story, so hooray for that, clapping all around.**

**Anyway, what did you think? Do you like Aaron Thatcher?  
**

**Fun Fact for the day:  
**

**If you type 'do a barrel roll' into your google search the whole page will spin.  
**

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Holy smokes its been a while. I have excuses, of course, but do you really care? Probably not, I wouldn't if I was a reader. So anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

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For the third night in a row the Joker sat in front of the computer and searched the internet for any information he could get on Quilla and people who knew her. The night before he'd found out that she had a big family, five siblings, and a mother and father, she was one of the middle children, which might help explain a few things he had been wondering about. He learned that her younger sisters were annoying brats caught up in the trend of putting everything they were doing on facebook.

The day had been uneventful for him, and he could only imagine what Quilla had thought of being dragged around for the whole day. All he'd done was run errands, picking up some guns here, stealing some money there, and laughing at people a lot. Usually this was entertaining for him, but ever since he'd gotten intrigued by his little captive everything seemed to be suspended, as if he was waiting for something big to happen.

So he went to work again, searching through anything he could find that had her name somewhere in it, or even just half of her name, but that didn't give him much information. Currently he was fixated on her family, fishing through their information hoping he would find something juicy and shocking.

He found out that she had three older brothers that lived together in a small apartment not far from their parent's house, and that her mother was a teacher at a local high school. Her father seemed to be the most helpful to him, since his page was full of picture of Quilla when she was younger, perhaps in her early teens.

He'd looked through all the pictures, examining each one of them as he saw that Quilla used to be such a happy lively thing, with long hair and sparkling blue eyes that smiled when she laughed. It was hard for him to even relate the two of them as being the same person, for the Quilla now had shown no signs of ever cracking a smile.

As he kept looking through all of them the Joker noticed that there was a slow decline of happiness in Quilla, she stopped smiling as much in the pictures. She was no longer laughing or smirking or making some kind of weird face. It was as if there was something that was happening to her that was slowly eating away at her emotions.

Finally the Joker saw that, in some of the later pictures, she had the same expression that she now presently wore, the same dead emotionless face that he saw every day. With only seventeen pictures left in the album he clicked through the rest of them to discover that she wasn't in any of them, it was like she'd just disappeared. Glancing at the posting date the Joker saw that the pictures had been uploaded a little more than a year ago.

There was a whole other album that had been uploaded recently, only two months ago, but he had a feeling that Quilla would not appear in any of the pictures, so he didn't look through it.

Instead he went back to the pictures where she was slowly losing herself to something dark and emotionless, going through the pictures quickly before stopping on one of them. There was something in image that caught his eye and made him search through his memories at lightning speed.

It was a rather dull looking picture, more of a snapshot really, with Quilla and the rest of her family standing in front of a forgetful museum about automobiles. Everyone was smiling, or making a goofy face except for her, the way she stared so dully at the camera one might think she was looking at them through the computer.

She was holding something in her hands, at first the Joker had gone right past it, but the second time around he saw that she was holding a green notebook. Holding it against her stomach the Joker zoomed in on the picture and was barely able to make out the words written on the front cover.

Green Eyes.

It was the same journal that Quilla had a picture of on her profile page, he thought it was just something worthless but now he knew that there was something about this journal that was vital to understanding Quilla.

The Joker was excited now; grazing his tongue across his lips he went back through the rest of the pictures, hoping to catch a glance of something green. He found two other images where he could clearly see that Quilla was holding the journal. In one of the pictures she had a painful looking smile on her face, as if she was trying not to look sad after a funeral, in the other she was slightly glaring at the camera.

Something within the Joker's mind clicked and whirred, connecting the dots. If she had had this journal before her emotions turned cold would there be something within the notebook that would explain why? And if there was something where was the notebook?

With all this new information running wild in his head the Joker felt on edge, there was this new spark that flared within his thoughts, this was fun! For the time that he was trying to solve the riddle that was Quilla he completely forgot about Gotham and the Batman, he didn't care about what he was trying to accomplish or what he was planning. All he cared about was finding out what happened to his Quilla.

Wandering back into the world of statuses and friend requests the Joker went on to her friends to see if there were anymore pictures or hints as to what was inside the journal titled _Green Eyes_. Finding nothing else he got a little frustrated and decided to call it a night, seeing how it was already three in the morning.

Turning off the computer the Joker left it on one of Quilla's friend's photo albums, one that was titled _School Field Trips_.

Brimming with new information the Joker found it hard to calm his mind down to even doze off for some needed sleep, it was like Quilla was a drug, and he was addicted to her, because all he wanted was more, more, and more. Perhaps next he would call her house, what was her family actually like?

Glancing over at her from his bed the Joker's mind was brought to the sudden realization that she had not slept since the first day that he had her, and that was because he had knocked her out. She had yet to really eat anything either, save for one bite from an apple that tore her away from reality.

Still gazing at her he was slightly surprised when she lifted her head slowly to look at him before turning her head to the side, the dull look in her eyes made her look eerie, a sane person might scream and run from a look such as that. Even thought it was hard to see in the dark dimness of the room the Joker could see the exact same expression and manner that he had seen in those pictures, like she was an emotionless doll.

Finally as his thoughts settled down the Joker welcomed complete darkness and closed his eyes, savoring the questions that still lingered unanswered.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ssssss

Waking up and getting ready was more than a regular routine as it was something he did every morning, the only recent change was that his mornings now began with Quilla saying good morning.

Today he had been planning on robbing a bank in order to get sufficient funds for his next big project, but after he woke up he found that his mind was still swimming in thoughts and questions of Quilla and the green mystery journal.

It was slightly funny to him, for she did nothing herself to set him off track, she said nothing, did nothing, and there should be no reason that he was so distracted by a girl. And yet for the very purpose that she had nothing to offer he wanted to know everything.

Besides his thoughts and excitement he had plans to rob a bank today, a very elaborate plan that would require his attention and mindless thoughts, so he could not be distracted by someone like Quilla.

It was a strangely hard decision for the Joker to make, that Quilla would stay behind today, perhaps he had gotten used to dragging the girl around with him.

"You're ah, staying here today," he muttered looking down at her at her spot on the floor.

She gave him no response as always, he had come to expect that by now so he didn't push her for a reply like he had during their first day together. He simply turned to leave thinking of the instructions he would give his goon so Quilla would at least have the option of eating if she wanted to.

"Have fun," her soft empty voice whispered after him. This comment made the Joker stop and turn around to look at her; she was still staring at the carpet beneath her.

"Oh, I will," he assured her before walking out of the room with a skip in his step. She'd never said something like that before, it made him anxious. If he kept her for a long time would her comments continue to change and develop? What would she say next?

Locking the door behind him he clicked his tongue before walking down the stairs, his head full of Quilla's smiling face changing to that of gloom.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss sssssssssssssssssssssssssss

By now Bruce was getting frustrated and irritated, he had found nothing on Quilla in Gotham, it was like she had disappeared as soon as the Joker had gotten a hold of her. He could only imagine what the Joker wanted with a girl like Quilla, sure she was cute in her own way, but she could only entertain for so long without speaking.

He was slightly surprised that her body hadn't shown up in a dumpster somewhere already, not that that was a very pleasant thought but Bruce was just angry with himself by now. Alfred was also getting impatient; he'd called the Quilla's mother when Bruce had told him about how they didn't know she was gone.

He didn't want to believe Bruce, how could a parent so easily forget about their child? But Bruce was right, Quilla's mother thought she was simply in her room with the door locked, that she had possibly seen her a few days ago though she couldn't quite remember.

"I still can't quite believe that she has been forgotten," Alfred muttered bringing out a tray of food for Bruce. He had always been fond of the girl whenever she had come back to Gotham for a visit; she made him feel like he needed to look after her. Even when she returned in such a sorry state as now he had felt something twist in his heart, that perhaps if she stayed with Bruce and himself she would return to her old self.

Of course it was a silly thought, a thought covered with hope and feelings that Quilla cared nothing for anymore, he just couldn't stand seeing the girl look so sad and empty.

"It's terrible isn't it?" Bruce said shortly. He was looking through police reports and searching the news hoping to find anything that hinted at a young girl tagging along with the Joker, but there was nothing.

"When you find her, don't give her back," he said setting the tray down and looking at Bruce sternly.

"I won't," Bruce smiled looking up at the older man kindly. "She needs someone who wants her around, someone who wants her to smile again," he muttered scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If we gave her back she would just run away again anyway," he added under his breath.

"What's that Master Bruce?" Alfred asked wondering if it was something important.

"Nothing," Bruce assured him.

Eating some of the food on the tray quickly he grabbed a muffin and an apple before rushing off to get to work, he wanted to get at least a little information about Quilla today.

He wasn't going to find her body in a dumpster, he would find her.

* * *

**What did you think? I'm finally getting into the mystery part about what happened. **

**What do you think is so significant about the journal titled _Green Eyes_?  
**

**Anyways, school has been hectic, but the term is almost over, so you can expect more updates sooner than a month! That's good isn't it?  
**

**Thank you for reading.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**So I did say that it wasn't going to be a month before I updated again...it was more than a month, sorry about that. I finished up school and finals, got everything done and finally I have free time and I typed this up really quickly so if there are any huge errors, just let me know and I'll fix them o_O**

** So here's the new chapter, enjoy!**

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In the fading light of day Quilla sat motionless against the bed that had white, black, and red make up smeared all over it. Now that the room was empty she was left to her own thoughts, no one would rouse her back into reality for another few hours. She found herself drooping forwards as sleep began to force itself upon her, how many days had it been since she'd allowed herself to fall asleep? Three? Four? Had she made it to five days again?

Slumping forwards again Quilla stood up shakily, she didn't want to fall asleep, not yet. It was the days that followed her slumber that her thoughts and emotions ran the most rampant. It wasn't that she was afraid of what she might do, she didn't want to remember, everything came back to her in her dreams, everything she'd hidden away broke free of its prison.

Taking a few tentative steps towards the door Quilla fell into the wall; her vision turned black letting her mind get enveloped into a world of darkness. Only a few seconds later did she return to the world of the walking and thinking, with a shudder in her breathing Quilla struggled to get into the bathroom. Perhaps water if she splashed her face with water it would wake her up a little, even though that wouldn't solve the problem of going to sleep it was welcome to her.

Eventually she would fall asleep, there was nothing she could do to keep her body from giving up on her, it had already happened to her many times. She'd be awake for days, barely eating anything, allowing herself nothing that her body might need to survive, and then she would just fall into a world where memories roam free. A place that plagued her like a cancer, slowly eating away at her brain until finally she woke up to realize that the world was still the same, and everything she'd told herself had been a lie.

Finally making it into the bathroom she turned the faucet on slowly, letting cold water run over her hands and fingers for a few seconds before cupping her hands together in order to collect water. It was odd, but even the water in her hands reminded her of something, suddenly bubbles clouded her vision as if she had been dunked underwater. It felt hard to breathe.

Quilla's hands shook as she tried to rid herself of the memory, though it seemed as if she was already too far gone, losing herself to her mind she drifted into the feelings of the past.

The cold water that increased in depth the more she waited the goose bumps that writhed across her skin as she let the water fall all around her, and the numbness that came with the freezing temperature. Back then her mind had only one thought, only one purpose that she had wanted to fulfill, she wanted it so badly and finally she attempted to complete it.

Suddenly everything was cold, it felt like ice trying to pry underneath her eyelids to show its ugly face to her, her breath halted as bubbles escaped trying to find their way out of such a prison. She could feel the bubbles squirm past her skin, going past her towards something better, but she didn't follow.

The air in her lungs jumped into her throat wanting to follow its friends, her lungs felt like they were about to burst, but still Quilla did not follow the air that called out for her.

Ignoring her shaking hands Quilla threw the water at her face, taking a huge breath she started to shake violently as she looked at the white tile of the bathroom floor.

That had always been one of her scariest memories, sometimes she stopped breathing when it struck into her mind and beat against her eyes, and when finally she pulled away from it she gasped as if someone had been choking her.

Looking up to the sink Quilla watched as white and black colored water dripped off of her face and into the drain, staining the white sink and winding its way to the drain like blood. Like blood.

**Blood.**

The thought of blood made Quilla stiffen, feeling imaginary pain in her arms she rubbed it, letting her mind cloud her thoughts she fell into another memory. This was just as happy as the last one.

Faintly Quilla felt as if her arm itched, though she knew it wasn't, she knew that she was staring to remember everything, but it itched so badly. Slowly she ran her fingers across it, the itchy feeling quickly turned into an aching pain before Quilla heard something drip onto the floor.

A dot of red outlined itself nicely, contrasting against the tan tiles of the floor in her memory; she saw another drop hit the floor, and another. Slowly she pulled her hand away from her arm, feeling a cool wetness as she brought it through the air Quilla looked down at it.

It was red.

Now she looked at her arm that had itched and ached to see a long deep red line that scratched itself from her shoulder to her wrist, letting dark red blood spill from it. She was frantic now, reaching her hands up into the water she watched the blood wash away into the drain, twisted her hands around frantically she wanted to rid herself of all the red. Wiping at her face she splashed water everywhere, she had to get rid of the blood.

The faint sound of a door slamming brought Quilla back to reality, the Joker must finally be back from his errands of the day, she was happy. Glad that the small sound he had caused allowed her to be pulled away from her haunting memories.

Letting her eyes travel around the bathroom slowly she found that there was water on the floor and small droplets that traveled slowly down the walls.

Feeling the last bit of water fall from her face Quilla looked up at herself in the mirror; it had been so long since she last looked at herself she was a little surprised at what she saw. Sunken tired eyes and a thin sick looking face that still had traces of white and black make up on it, her hair was a mess. Greasy from days without washing and wild from weeks without care.

Catching herself staring at her own eyes Quilla blinked slowly, watching warily as the image of her own tear streaked face replaced her presently sick and tired one. The eyes of her past self looked pathetically strong and determined, quickly Quilla faded into that memory for it was one of the ones that plagued her most frequently. It was a folly memory that brought back painful memories, a gateway flashback that opened the door to images and past feelings that she wanted to be locked away forever.

Don't cry.

She remembered speaking the words bitterly as the saltiness of tears invaded her mouth.

Quilla hated this memory, desperately she tried to pull herself away from it, but her eyes stayed locked with her own in the mirror.

DON'T CRY!

The other Quilla suddenly shouted, finally Quilla pulled herself out of the memory, stepping backwards onto the slippery tile she felt her foot slide and quake as she lost her footing.

For a mere second there was a feeling of weightlessness that Quilla welcomed, she had felt it before and every time it had been peaceful and empty. All it once it was taken from her as her head smashed into the side of the bathtub before her body fell limp on the floor.

O3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3 o3o3o3o3o3o3o3o3O

When the Joker slammed the door of his hideout he walked immediately to the guard he had put on watch over Quilla, the man had jumped when he'd slammed the door closed which made the Joker smile. Fear was always such a fun reaction.

"How is our little, ah, captive?" He questioned the man with a bright and excited smile.

"She's fine, nothing happened the whole day," he said with a small shake in his voice.

"I know," the Joker spoke softly. "I know, I know, I know," he laughed getting closer to the man. The guard shivered at how close they were; too scared to move away for fear that he might do something he stayed close. "She never does anything anyway," he cackled imagining that she had just been sitting in the corner all day.

"Did you give her, ah, anything to eat?" He asked as his eyes grazed across the stolen bag of groceries.

At this question the mad gulped visibly, getting very pale he shook his head timidly. The Joker laughed on the outside but on the inside he was angry, he hoped that today since Quilla would be alone she would eat something.

"You didn't?" He laughed manically. Quickly he pulled his gun on the man, letting the man see it before he shoved it into his cheek. "I guess I don't get to, ah, let you live then," he msued before getting ready to pull the trigger.

At that moment there was a loud thud that could be heard from upstairs.

In that moment the Joker faltered in his wicked grin, letting the gun fall away from the man's cheek the emotion drained away from his eyes, something was wrong. Rushing past the guard and towards the stairs he took them three at a time, not even bothering with unlocking the door he kicked it open and glanced around the room frantically.

She wasn't there.

Taking long steps towards the bathroom the Joker stiffened at what he saw. Quilla was in front of him, lying on the cold tile floor of the bathroom on her side, her eyes closed lightly as if she had merely fallen asleep. What made him catch his breath was the blood that seemed to be leaking from her head, mixing with water that was on the floor it spread across the floor like a red plague.

He was at a loss for words, the Joker knew that she was going to eventually lose herself to sleep, but he never thought he would find her lying in a puddle of her own blood.

The world around him didn't matter anymore; slowly he kneeled down towards the motionless girl, putting two careful fingers on her neck he sighed in relief when he could feel the beating of her heart. The relief was short lived as he knew that if she stayed here, or even in his care for that matter, he could do nothing to heal a wound such as this. Carefully he tied another bandage around the wound on her head, hoping it would help to stop the flow of the blood for a little while.

He'd have to take her to the hospital.

At the mere thought the Joker growled angrily, it would be harder to get her back if whoever had had her first was looking for her. She'd be in the hospital where anyone could just come by and grab her; all in all he hated the idea of placing her in the care of such people who could lose sight of her so easily.

He might not be able to get her back so easily and he needed her now, this riddle that she was, this mystery, he had to solve it. What was behind his Quilla? He wanted to keep her, there was nothing within him that wanted to let Quilla go, he wanted to watch her unravel before his eyes.

But if he kept her with him, she'd die.

Gently he picked Quilla up and held her in his arms like a loving father would hold his child. She was a light girl; of course she had to be since she never ate anything. The bandage on her shoulder looked slightly unraveled so he pulled them lose, watching the cloth fall to the floor it looked as if there were scratch marks going up her shoulder, though he wasn't certain.

Slowly he stood up and began to carry Quilla down the stairs, commanding that the failure of a guard get the van ready because they were going somewhere.

Taking each step cautiously he looked down at Quilla with mixed emotions, when was the last time that he'd cared whether someone lived or died?

The smell of blood filled his nose as he made his way to the van; faint warmth began to pulse on his arm as Quilla's blood began to seep into the fabric of his jacket, staining it red.

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**What did you think?**

**Personally after writing this chapter out I think it might have been a little confusing, but isn't that how Quilla's mind is anyway? I think it was good that we got a glimpse of her memories as I've not written much about them.  
**

**What did you think of the Joker's reaction?  
**

**Thank you for reading!  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Wow, it's certainly been a while. Didn't think I would come back to this but I still have the ending stuck in my head so vividly that I just have to finish it I guess. Anyway, enjoy.**

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The room was alive with the sound of beeps and the hollow sound of breathing that came from Quilla at a steady pace. Occasionally her heartbeat would speed up, alarming a nurse who would run into the room and worry over the girl until whatever nightmare she was having passed and her breaths returned to normal. At first the doctors hadn't known what to do with the girl that had been left on the steps of the hospital; her head had been carelessly bandaged and was still bleeding when they took her in. There had been no type of identification on her body; they didn't even know her name until a man came to claim her.

Alfred had been notified first that a girl looking like Quilla had shown up at the hospital, it was the fifth call he had gotten about a girl that looked like Quilla so he hadn't been expecting much. But when he walked in and saw her lying lifeless in the bed his heart wrenched slightly, soon Bruce Wayne was at the hospital. Attracting a lot of unneeded attention, he was finally able to get them to go away and moved Quilla to a more private room with nurses that would check up on her every twenty minutes.

That was three days ago, Quilla showed no signs of waking up any time soon, the bandage on her head made Bruce angry. Whatever the Joker had done to her Bruce was sure he had taken his sweet time doing it, else why had it taken Quilla so long just to show up?

After talking to the doctor that treated her Bruce was told of her scars and the rest of her medical history, that she had been in the hospital countless times for cuts, and other wounds. It would explain the many scars that littered her arms and legs, what it didn't explain was what caused them, there were still so many unanswered questions.

For now Bruce was doing a little researching of his own, trying to figure out exactly when Quilla had started going to the hospital more frequently. What the doctors had said about her reason for coming in, and who had brought her in. Most of the time when she was brought into the hospital it was by a stranger, someone who left Quilla as soon as they dropped her off.

Alfred was worried that Quilla might not ever wake up; they didn't know how serious of a condition she was in. They didn't know that she hadn't slept or eaten in days, all they knew was that she was back with them again, and they weren't about to lose her now.

"Do you want something to drink Master Bruce?" Alfred asked rising from his seat slowly. They had been in the girls room for about twenty minutes or so, with Bruce looking over files that he had gotten off the hospitals computer.

"I'm fine," Bruce assured him with a grim smile.

"The usual then," Alfred grinned back at him half heartedly before leaving the room.

Neither one of them liked being in that room with Quilla lying so lifeless next to them, but they wanted to be there when she woke up. Bruce sighed setting down the papers quickly before getting up as well, his legs had fallen asleep a little while ago and it wouldn't hurt to stretch them out for a few minutes. Walking out the door Bruce turned to look at Quilla, her steady breathing seemed to reassure him slightly before he walked outside yawning slightly.

For a few minutes the room was silent save for the ever present beeps and shallow breathing before Quilla's eyes snapped open quickly. The hazy film that usually seemed to coat her eyes was gone, they were clear and emotion ridden as she began to breathe deeply and glance frantically around the room.

So many nightmares had attacked her in her sleep; she couldn't even escape they just kept coming and coming, reminding her of everything she wanted to forget. Sitting up quickly Quilla felt slightly dizzy as she had not moved in three days, her world turned fuzzy and dark for a moment before it cleared and revealed to her where she was.

A hospital.

She hated it here. Always the walls were white and everything was so clean she could smell the chemicals on the glossy floor. The needle in her arm and the insistent dripping of something going into her veins, the beep of her heartbeat and the jump of the line as it followed it. The scratchy gown with awful printed designs, the ache of old and new pain, the thin covers that held no warmth, and the cold feeling of something crawling up her arm. She hated it here, hated it.

All at once Quilla had a horrendous feeling that she had to leave; she couldn't be here anymore, not with everything crashing down on her. Pulling her legs over to the side of the bed Quilla pushed herself onto the floor, feeling the cold tile on her bare feet she let her weight fall on her legs. It was no use, she was too weak to keep herself up and ended up making a lot of noise when she knocked something over as she tried to get back up.

Fumbling around with her limp form Quilla began to pull herself away from her bed before a nurse ran into the room. She looked first at the bed before seeing Quilla on the ground trying to move.

"Quilla, you can't move yet, it's not good for your body," the nurse said in a friendly voice. She was just trying to keep the girl calm and befriend her with a cheerful tone, but Quilla's mind was too far gone for that. All that mattered right now was that she got out of the hospital and away from anything that made her remember and dream.

"Leave," Quilla said in her soft voice.

"I can't do that honey," she said walking over to the girl and taking her arm firmly. Quilla pulled her arm away from the nurse jerkily, pushing her form away from the woman she let her eyes show fear and hatred towards her. "Doctor!" The nurse shouted calling for back up.

The moment that the man came into the room Quilla started to mumble something softly, the doctor sat down next to Quilla slowly, careful not to upset her in anyway.

"What's wrong?" He asked her softly.

"Don't want to be here," she answered him just as softly. It had been a while since she spoke so her voice came out choked and rough; it hurt her throat to even mutter those words.

"You're fine, no one's going to hurt you here," he said kindly reaching out to pull her up gently.

"Liar," said in a bland whisper.

"Pick her up," the doctor said harshly. It had been a long day for him, and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with a kid like Quilla. He had seen her results when she had been taken to a psychiatrist, she was borderline crazy, with nightmare and memories to plague her dreams he could only imagine how much worse she would get.

030

When Bruce had finally circled back around towards Quilla's room he saw a man rush into the room quickly, which made Bruce suspicious enough to start running towards her room. Before he got in there another nurse ran into the room. Stopping in the doorway Bruce blinked a few times taking in what he saw with slight anger.

A couple nurses and Quilla's doctor were placing the girl on her bed while she stared at them with a dark deepness that Bruce had never seen before. It looked like she was ready to rip herself out of their grip on her and tear someone apart. When finally they got her onto the bed the doctor sighed heavily before attempting to make a quick exit, only to run into Bruce who was staring him down just as Quilla was.

"How many?" Quilla asked the man darkly.

"How many what?" The man asked getting angrier and angrier.

"How many people have died under your care? How many people have you looked in the eyes and promised that they would be okay and they died?" Her voice was ragged and cracked multiple times while she spoke.

"Too many," the man whispered.

Such was the life of a doctor, sometimes you lost more patients than you saved, most of the time the doctor blamed themselves. Perhaps if they had done something differently that person would still be alive, but they can't keep their heads in the past when so much happens in the present. In the end it haunts their dreams and messes with their minds, but they have to deal with it, just put on a smile and make empty promises.

_Everything will be okay._

But it won't be. Not when they wake from a nightmare or even when they have to smile at a patient that they know is going to die.

"Don't want to be here," Quilla said softly shaking her head.

Bruce watched the whole thing with suspended awe, when he had had Quilla in his care before she had barely spoken at all, it was only the first day that Quilla had gone to Bruce in his office that she had said full complete sentences. Since then there had been little tid bits of information that she thought were vital or something, he hadn't been able to make her speak at all.

Perhaps it was the simple fact that they were in the hospital, it was obvious that she didn't like them, the way her body was stiff and her eyes looked wary. Bruce stopped himself short when he glanced at her eyes briefly, it was the first time since he had seen her that her eyes were clear, he could tell that she hated this place. There was no film blocking out her emotions or expressions today, but even as she spoke and shuddered Bruce saw that the film was beginning to come back.

The doctor left them with a frown on his face while Quilla started to move less and less, her face starting to become a blank page of emotion, the nurses next to her watched in a bit of curious wonder. The rate at which she was retreating into herself was something that they had never seen before.

"Hate it here," was the last thing she whispered. Pulling her knees to her chest Quilla put her arms around her legs and let her head fall into the space between, closing herself off from the world.

This was why she never let herself sleep, when she woke up, everything rushed back to her in a blinding stupor, and for a short while she let her emotions control her words and expressions before she was able to choke it back. The doctor probably hated her right now, freaking out like that, she hated herself for it. All he was trying to do was his job, and she had to go and reveal the ugly truth behind his words, but she was so sick of being in the hospital.

When she'd woken and tried to move the dull ache in her head had exploded into a throbbing agony of pain, if they had given her something for the pain it had expired. But it didn't matter anymore, as she sat with her head in between her legs and chest she could feel the pain lessen as she began to block everything out. It turned into a small throbbing pinch before it disappeared completely, leaving Quilla to her empty mind and tired thoughts.

The last time she had been in the hospital her arm was bandaged like a cast, and still the blood seeped through, staining her clothes with crimson blots of red. Perhaps the one thing that scared her the most and yet made her feel at peace was that when they knocked her out, she didn't dream. When she could feel the cold running up her arm and in her veins before her world went back it was what she imagined dying to be like. Except that she always woke up.

Bruce waited until the nurses left the room, taking a glance back at Quilla for a second before walking down the hall scratching their heads. Staring at Quilla for a little while longer Bruce took long strides until he was standing next to her.

"Quilla," he spoke to her gently.

Just like always she lifted her head slowly, her eyes looked dead again making Bruce long to see them when they were clear again. Finally when her eyes landed on his Bruce felt compelled to shake her, to see if her eyes would clear and she would speak to him like she had spoken to the doctor. He still wasn't any closer to finding out what had happened to her, but perhaps this little event had been a clue. Something had happened in a hospital to make her like this, to make her hate hospitals so much, when he got home he would do some more research on what happened in her home town hospital.

"Alfred will be back soon," he said turning to leave.

At that moment Quilla felt something inside her scream out in agony, watching him just leave her there like that. Reaching out quickly she grabbed onto the back of his jacket, letting a flash of a sad frown wash across her face like a gush of wind, for a mere second it looked as if she was battling an awful type of pain before it was gone.

Bruce had turned around as soon as he felt a tug on his jacket, only catching the end of her expression he looked at her silently. The hand holding his jacket in a loose grip was shaking ever so slightly, as if she was cold.

"Quilla," he was unsure of what to say to the girl.

"Don't," she started softly. Her gaze drifted away from him ever so gently, she looked at the white sheets on her bed before turning to look back up at him. "Leave me here," her lips turned down for a moment before she closed them into the thin line of expressionless wonder.

For a moment Bruce just stared back at her before he reached out for her, first draping a blanket across her form to stop her from shivering and cover any skin that was showing. He then picked her up like he would pick up a child, holding her against his chest he more or less rushed out the door, taking her with him.

One of the nurses saw him carrying her and rushed to stop him.

"Sir you can't take her," she said walking behind them as he rushed down the hall.

Bruce wasn't listening to her, all he was aware of was the small body in his arms that had grabbed onto his jacket and told him that she didn't want to be alone. For a long time he hadn't known what to do with Quilla, she didn't speak to him and all he could do was delve into her past and hope he found something that would help her. But she'd finally looked at him, not past him, and spoken to him, he couldn't leave her after that.

"Sir," the nurse tried again before the lights began to flicker. For a moment they flickered again, and then turned off completely. Bruce's phone rang once before he picked it up and held it against his ear.

"Alfred?" Bruce spoke into the phone in a hushed voice.

"He's here," was all the man said. Bruce knew exactly whom he was talking about.

The Joker.

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**AN: So there's that, time to go to work. If you're still hanging on to this story and you came back to read, thanks for hanging in there.**

**What did you think of Quilla's little outburst? Do you like hospitals?**

**Thanks for reading.**


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